#a ridiculous busting of moves and limbs

[lineffability]

okay but the real question about The Ball episode is that IF they dance (getting my hopes neither up nor down) but if they dance.....the moves. what will they be. the m o v e s

I know we're all imagining sappy romantic waltzing with Gazing™ and Longing™ but also....theres 80s disco Crowley and enthusiastic Gavotte aziraphale??? ANYTHING could happen on that dance floor, are you prepared??

[gothgoblinbabe]

Love Game

[Logan Howlett x fem!reader]

Warnings: MDNI/18+ use of she/her, female reader, swearing, being referred to as a girl, mention of being a stress eater, mild alcohol consumption and mention of alcoholism kinda, jealous!Logan, mild violence, you’re shorter than Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it up), little bit of spitting, sub!logan x kinda dom!reader, voyeurism? Technically?, use of pet names, I believe that’s it but pls lmk if I missed any! ps. you wear a dress in this but if that don't work for you, imagine its a sick ass tux/ fancy attire you're comfy in

Also non cannon compliant because I know Logan is heavy as shit and his body weight would crush you but just for a minute you’re gonna pretend like it wouldn’t

Summary: essentially [this ask] with plot ! // Scott needs to mind his god damn business, but he might’ve done you a favor by snatching your diary and waving it in Logan's face.

Word Count: 8K

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“That fucking kid.”

You groaned, lifting your mattress and checking underneath and round your bed. You knew Scott was going to snatch your diary the moment you’d realized he overheard you tell Ororo where you kept it.  He was always busting your balls the same way he did Logans, even insisting it was a ‘two for one’ deal when he got to bother you at the same time. 

Well, he was really gonna regret messing with you this time.

“Summers! I’m going to wring your goddamn neck! Where is it?”

Your voice boomed through the open halls of the mansion as you barreled down the stairs, feet moving faster than your thoughts. Everything echoed in this place; if he was here, you know he heard you.

“Scott!”

You continued to call his name, stomping around until you locked eyes with him as you entered the kitchen. In his hands - to your abject horror - was your diary, spread open while Logan peeked over his shoulder. 

Truthfully, Scott was a little scared shitless of the consequences of what he’d done. He’d dealt with Logan back and forth, sure, but you? Terrifying. You had just about the same strength as Logan and about five times his rage. That’s why his eyes grew wide when he saw you, snapping the little book shut. 

You could feel your face burning. A diary was private within itself, but there were some things you’d written that were never supposed to be read by another soul; Scott and Logan’s included.

“Fucker,” you grumbled, reaching forward to grab the book from Scott’s hands until Logan snatched it, holding it above your head. 

“Ah, not so fast,” he teased.

You’d gotten into plenty of squabbles with Scott, but he was absolutely going to pay for this. He knew the way you felt about Logan and you swore he got some sick satisfaction out of trying to humiliate you. He only found out because he’d overheard you confiding in Jean late one night in the living room with a pint of ice cream in your hands, yapping while you shoveled Ben and Jerrys into your mouth.

Your eyes flickered between his face and Logan’s. If looks could kill, Scott would have dropped dead the second you walked into the kitchen. 

“Now what is this,” Logan asked with a lilt in his voice as his eyes scanned a page, “a whole paragraph for little ol’ me?”

Shit. 

“I’ll give it back, I promise, but I gotta read this.”

If you tried, you could maybe snatch the thing from his grip before he read too much. You considered jumping on him, piggybacking until he dropped it or handed it over. What lengths would you be willing to go through to keep it a secret anyway? Was it really even a big deal?

You had a crush. Everybody does at some point. A stupid, harmless crush and if this was how he was going to find out, so be it. 

You were still absolutely planning on tearing Scott from limb to limb, though.

“Huh,” Logan clicked his tongue, beginning to read from the pages, “No one knows how to piss me off like Logan.”

You sighed, dropping your head into your hands.

“True,” he commented, “and he spends a ridiculous amount of time in the bathroom to do his hair.”

“Also true,” Scott chimed in, becoming the subject of your seething gaze. 

“He’d save so much time if he just let me do it for him - like it would be hard to comb it into two cat ears,” he read, looking up to speak to you, “first of all, I told you they’re not cat ears.”

You simply nodded and rolled your eyes.

“Second of all, you couldn’t master ‘em anyway - I’d have to fix it myself.”

You just scoffed, leaning yourself back against the kitchen counter in an attempt to act nonchalant while you tapped one foot uncontrollably. Everything he’d read so far seemed to be the mundane stuff, nothing incriminating just yet. 

“God, how I wanna…play with his hair,” he read, eyebrow quirked in confusion.

Ah, there it is.

“That’s, uh - it’s really old, I didn’t mean, like - it’s from years ago,” you tried to blabber out an excuse.

“It’s dated - it’s from a couple months ago.”

You pursed your lips, nearly biting through the flesh at the same time from the pressure. You had to get that book out of his hands.

“He’s so stubborn,” Logan continued to read with a smug grin, holding the book high when you jumped to grab it, “I wish someone would just put him in his place.”

“Ooh,” Scott chuckled, looking to you, “are you gonna be the one to do it?”

“Fuck you, Summers - I’m so gonna get you back for this,” you snarled.

“I don’t think it would take too much for him to keep his mouth shut” Logan started to read again.

You instantly recognized the part he was reading and gasped, frantically reaching again for the book. 

“No, no, no, Logan, please - you don’t wanna read th-“

“I’d love to be the one to do it. I wanna take him and -”

He stopped reading and his eyes scanned the rest of the page, his amused smile faltering. You knew exactly what it was he’d read and you wanted to bury yourself alive. You remembered scrawling it down, snickering to yourself as you dragged the gel pen across the paper.

I wanna take him and tie him to my bedpost, probably shove my panties in his mouth and fuck him senseless.That would really shut him up.

Out of all the pages in that goddamn book, that’s the one he had to open up to?

You watched intently as his eyes flashed from yours to the page and then back again.

“What does it say?” Scott questioned, trying to lean over to get a look.

Instead of letting him read it, he snapped it shut and held it out towards you, his face expressionless. Was he mad? Grossed out?

“Don’t worry about it. We shouldn’t be readin’ her private stuff anyway.”

“Uh…,” you hesitated, fingers softly grazing his when you took it back, “thanks.”

You turned on your heel immediately and hastily made your way back to your room. You hoped to hide out there the rest of the day, praying maybe Logan would forget what he’d read or just let it be. You knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t.

You knew him so well because you were like mirrors of each other; smart mouthed and hot headed. You realized that the first couple months with the X-men, always butting heads with him until one mission where you had to grab the back of his jacket in an attempt to keep him where he was. You tugged with so much force that you nearly knocked him on his ass. Even Hank had never been bold enough to do that, not when Logan was as riled up as could be. From that point on, it was kind of an unspoken assumption that you would always be the one who calmed him down or held him back. So, you did just that; grabbing his wrist with both hands to force him to keep his claws to himself or pushing back against him when he tried to lunge at Scott for something stupid - though, after what he just pulled, you may just let Logan rip him apart next time. Though it was never acknowledged between the two of you, you were his anchor. You held him down when he began to drift away. Fortunately for you, he did the same - using minimal effort to keep you in place when you tried to go for someone’s face or going as far as to hike you over his shoulder and carry you away from the confrontation, all while you kicked and screamed to be let down. 

You avoided him the best you could for two days after the incident in the kitchen, quick comments in passing but never staying long enough for a full conversation out of fear that he’d bring up what he read. What were you supposed to say, anyway? ‘Sorry I thought about fucking you?’

You’d have to think of something because you were face to face in training a few days later. Scott stood to the side of you both, a stopwatch in his hand. 

“Alright, when I say go, whoever pins the other down for more than five seconds wins. Remember, you're each trying to beat your time from the last session.”

Scott’s voice almost sounded underwater. Your eyes were locked with Logan’s and though you wanted to rip your gaze away, you couldn’t.

“Ready? And…go!”

He backed out of the way and you tried to lunge at Logan, quickly being flipped onto your back.

“Okay, ow,” you whispered to yourself, immediately standing back up.

He tried to grab you when you stood but you caught his hand, twisting his arm behind his back to force him to the ground. You straddled his back and kept your weight on him but he was too quick, turning over and pushing you off him.

“Don’t get too excited, now,” he panted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

You were caught off by the low cadence of his voice, inadvertently letting your guard down and giving him an opportunity to pin your arms above your head and keep your legs down with the weight of his knee. Scott began to count down and you racked your brain for a way to get yourself out from underneath him. 

You were able to pull one of your legs free, sending him a little off balance and using your leg on the side of his torso to roll him over on his back again. You straddled his waist, using your hands and your forearms to hold his down. That, however, left you nose to nose while panting for air. 

“What, you thought I’d let you win?” You asked, tongue poking at the corner of your open mouth. It was usual for you to tease each other with little snide comments. Nothing any different from the usual, right?

“Nah, I just really like havin’ you on top.”

Nope, definitely different. 

You didn’t even hear Scott call time on your match at first. 

“Hey! Lovebirds! I said you can get off each other. Jesus,” he groaned. You finally remembered where you were and quickly scrambled off of Logan. 

“Aw, really? It was just gettin’ good,” he chuckled. You could feel his eyes on you as you gathered your belongings with your back turned. You tried to step out into the hallway, praying he wouldn’t catch you before you met the elevator doors - of course, you weren’t that lucky.

“Hey, hey - princess, wait up,” you heard him call after you and you stopped, turning on your heel with an irritated expression.

“About the other day, the thing you wrote - “

You sighed, rubbing your face in distress and cutting him off before he could finish.

“Listen, Logan,” you quickly looked around the corridor to make sure you were alone, “I know what you read, I don’t wanna talk about it. It - look, it was some stupid phase where I had a crush and it’s over, okay?”

He tilted his head. You hoped he would simply nod and move on, but you watched his lips curl into a smile instead.

“Aw, what happened - you changed your mind?”

You knew him well enough to understand the look on his face. He was never gonna let this go - in fact, he was probably going to nearly torture you over it. 

“Shut up,” you huffed and continued to walk away, keeping your stare straight ahead.

“Aw, pretty girl -“

You dropped your belongings to the floor with an audible thud and gathered the front of Logan’s t-shirt in your fists, tugging him down to your height so you were face to face. 

“First of all, I told you not to call me that - ‘princess’, ’pretty girl’ - like I’m one of your little girlfriends. Okay, kitty cat?” you scolded through gritted teeth. He hated being called that and you knew it.

His eyebrows were raised and his lips parted in surprise.

“And second of all,” you continued with a deep breath, “you read it, it’s done - leave it be, would you? It doesn’t mean anything.”

You still had his shirt in your tight grip.

“Alright, alright - I’m just teasing,” he admitted, trying to pry your fingers from his t-shirt, “and I’m sorry, I never should’ve been reading it in the first place.” 

You sighed and finally let him go.

“Fine, I forgive you. And you can’t ever tell anyone what you read. Promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“So, we’re cool again? Nothings weird?”

“Not unless you make it weird.”

“You were the one flirting with me.”

“Uh - was not. I was simply creating a distraction to throw you off guard and it worked.”

“I’ll get you back.”

“Sure, you will.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You and Logan were in forced proximity hours later, standing with Scott, Jean and Ororo in Charles’ office.

“Do we really have to go?” Logan groaned, hanging his head back in frustration.

You were staring at the thick paper invite atop Charles’ desk. All your names were scrawled in cursive, surrounded by small gold detailing with the event written on top. It was some kind of Gala, something for charity that you couldn’t quite make out from where you were standing.

“It would be a wonderful opportunity to represent the school, yourselves and the mutant population as a whole,” Charles answered.

“You really think wolvie and his little hothead wrangler are gonna be well behaved enough to not make a scene?” Scott gestured towards you both.

Logan stepped towards him and you instinctively grabbed the sleeve of his jacket to hold him back. He looked back at you, clearly annoyed.

“We’ll be fine,” you insisted while glaring daggers in Scott’s direction.

You didn’t notice that you were still holding the sleeve of Logan’s jacket when Charles dismissed you. You let go and cleared your throat as you followed him out of the room.

“There's no way in hell I'm wearing a suit,” he grumbled, looking down at his flannel and jeans.

“You don’t wanna play dress up?” You teased.

“And look like a stuck up prick? No.”

“I'm kind of excited to wear something nice for once,” you admitted, “I’ve got a couple nice dresses I’ve never even worn. Besides, maybe there’s gonna be a couple of hot, rich guys there.”

You were looking straight ahead as you walked side by side down the hall, smiling to yourself. If you had turned your head, you would have seen the way Logan rolled his eyes. 

“What, you’re gonna go home with some rich schmuck just ‘cause he’s got money?”

He sounded almost annoyed. You furrowed your eyebrows and shrugged. 

“I don’t know, if he’s good looking, maybe.”

That was only a little truthful. You were not the type of person who was comfortable enough to go back to a stranger's place or hook up with someone you’d never see again. But maybe you could, if it would keep your mind off Logan and convince him to forget about what he’d read a few days ago. And if the guy did have money? It certainly wouldn’t be a problem for you.

“Oh,” Ororo piped up from behind you, stretching out the vowel, “I see - you’re going shopping. Gotta try before you buy, huh?”

She playfully poked your side and you chuckled, swatting her hand away.

“Call it what you want,” you responded, “but I’m gonna have fun, at the very least.”

You would end up having fun - just in a much different way than you expected.

You decided on getting ready for the night in Ororo’s room when the time came a few weeks later. She was touching up her makeup at her vanity while you changed behind the bathroom door. 

“Does it fit?” She asked through the wood with her eyes still on her reflection.

You were attempting to zip the back of your dress with your arm stretched uncomfortably over your shoulder.

“In a way? Kind of.”

Jean entered the room just then, having already gotten ready in her and Scott’s room.

“She’s trying on a dress that’s been in her closet since last year that still had tags,” Ororo explained to her as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Can one of you zip me up, though?” you sighed in defeat and opened the door, “I can’t get it.”

“Woah, mama!” Ororo comically wolf whistled and you rolled your eyes with a smile.

The dress was your favorite out of your collection of unworn clothing; it showed the perfect amount of skin and hugged your figure phenomenally. To top it off, the color complemented your skin in the best way possible.

“I don’t look silly? I feel a little funny getting all dolled up,” you confessed, turning around so Jean could pull your zipper up the rest of the way.

“Definitely not silly,” Jean reassured you but mumbled under her breath after, “Logan’s gonna lose it.”

You turned back around to quirk an eyebrow at her.

“Who cares what he thinks? Did I say I care what he thinks? ‘Cause I don’t. Like, at all.”

“Honey,” Ororo began, “we already know you like him, remember?”

You groaned and bent down to look into the mirror on her vanity.

“I don’t - not anymore, at least.”

“Yeah, right,” Jean giggled, “keep telling yourself that.”

Ororo looked at the time on her watch and hastily stood to slip on her shoes, “We’re gonna be late if we don’t leave soon. Logan and Scott are supposed to meet us downstairs.”

You stepped into your shoes and grabbed the little bag you’d carry for the night, following her and Jean out the door. When you finally got to the staircase, you could see Scott and Logan talking to each other at the bottom, the latter of the two standing with his back facing the stairs. 

“All right, ready!” Jean enthusiastically announced. If she hadn’t said anything, the simultaneous clicking of your shoes would’ve announced your presence for you.

Logan turned around to face you. At that moment, he wondered why he ever complained about going in the first place. His eyes were glued to you as you came down the stairs and you could feel yourself start to get warmer. 

He looked so good in a tux, Jesus Christ. You liked when he wore those tight fitting tanks and jeans, sure, but something about the formal attire really did it for you. His cologne wafting into your space when you stood next to him didn’t do much to help dispel any feelings you had, either. How badly you wanted to just forget the stupid event, tug him into your bedroom upstairs and show him that you were so not kidding about what you’d scribbled in your diary. Alas, that was certainly not going to happen.

‘Just an old crush,’ you internally tried to remind yourself, ‘just an old crush - that’s it. I’m not into him anymore.’

Except that you knew damn well it was a lie. 

“We’re gonna be late if we stand here any longer, c’mon,” Scott began walking with Jean while you, Logan and Ororo followed.

“You look nice,” Logan finally spoke as you made it to the door, “think you’ll bag any of those rich guys?”

You almost asked what he was talking about, too lost in thinking about how you actually wanted to bag him and not some stranger.

“I don’t know,” you answered truthfully, “but if I do, you’ll be the last to find out.”

“Oh, really? Why’s that?”

“Because I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Got that right.”

You eventually found yourself in a large, decorated open room, sat in the corner with Logan while he nursed a glass of whiskey and you anxiously scarfed down appetizers. The rest of the team had walked off to mingle - like normal people do.

“Kid, you’re gonna choke if you keep eatin’ that fast,” he warned you.

“ ‘m a stress eater,” you explained with a mouthful of fancy cheese, “besides, you’re a stress drinker. Thank god there’s so many tiny foods.”

He scoffed and took a sip of his drink. 

“What are you even stressed about, anyway? Half your job tonight is to just stand there and look pretty and you’ve already got that down.”

“Thank you, I think?” your eyes nervously scanned the room, “I just hate being in a crowded place, especially one this big that’s full of complete strangers.”

“Why do you think I’m holdin’ a glass right now?” 

Your eyes flickered between his and the half full glass in his hand. You wordlessly took it from his fingers before he even had time to react and downed the contents in one gulp.

“Well, that’s one way to calm your nerves,” he commented, “but if you keep drinkin’ like that, you’re gonna be face first on the ground before the nights even started.”

You were still holding a grimace from the burn of the alcohol but shook your head and cleared your throat, “I just needed the kick in the ass - I’m good.”

“So, you’re gonna go socialize? Good luck,” he raised his eyebrows, “something tells me these people aren’t really who we want to be hanging out with.”

“Why, because they have an immense amount of cash to burn and we don’t? You can’t hate people just because they have money, Logan.”

“Then how am I doin’ it right now?”

You rolled your eyes.

“I think there’s gotta be a few genuinely good people out there who just happen to be rich.”

“Uh-huh, and I think two plus two is five - it doesn’t make me right.”

“You know what? I’m going to prove you wrong,” you said smugly, standing up from the table. 

“I think you’ll prove me right.”

“You wanna bet?”

“It’s a deal.”

“What are we betting, exactly?”

“How ‘bout this - if either of us can find someone here we actually want to go home with, you win. If we don’t, I win.”

“Fine,” you narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms, “what does the winner get?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “we can figure it out later.”

With that, you both dispersed. You were still feeling uncomfortable but that wasn’t going to go away unless you did something about it. Do you just go up and talk to someone? What do you say?

“Excuse me,” a voice said from behind you and you turned around, only to be face to face with a cute guy in a tux.

“Oh, so they come up to you,” you thought immediately.

“Uh, I don’t mean to be forward with you, but you look very beautiful,” he said politely, a charming smile on his face, “I saw you when you walked in and wanted to say something, I just wasn’t sure if you came with someone.”

You took a second to respond, still processing the fact that he even came up to you. 

“Oh, thanks,” you finally replied, “you’re not too bad yourself.”

You tried to use humor to dispel the awkwardness - the type of awkwardness you feel when you get asked to go to a school dance in the seventh grade - but this guy was cute. If you just got to know him a bit, the mild discomfort would probably pass.

“I didn’t come here with anyone, by the way,” you added, “Well, I mean, I did but not in that way - I’m with friends.”

“That’s good to know,” he said, grinning, “in that case, would you wanna dance with me?”

You hadn’t even asked each other your names, and you didn’t really care. 

You nodded and let him take your hand, “I have to warn you, though - I’m no dancer.”

“Well, do I look like one? ‘Cause I’m certainly not, either. But when there’s a beautiful woman in the room that you really wanna talk to, you’ve got to think of a reason to go up and talk to her.”

“I don’t know - I think you just might be a bit of a smooth talker.”

He was and it was definitely working. He clicked his tongue and waved his hand dismissively.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t make me blush.”

He was funny, too. All you had to do was find out a little more about him - for the sake of the bet, yes, but also to determine the probability of breaking his bed frame later if it all went well.

So, you let him rest his arms around your waist and you put your hands on his shoulders. It was kind of nice to have someone so close. You started to feel mildly uncomfortable, though, as if someone was staring at you. You ignored it anyway, deciding it was just the anxiety of being in a place with a lot of people.

Really, it was Logan standing across the room with his stare glued to you two. He looked like he wanted to bore a hole into the poor guy's skull. When you finally caught sight of him, he turned and seemingly disappeared.

You spent a bit of time with your new date, intending to subtilely interrogate him to find out if he fit the criteria for your bet with Logan. Even if he didn’t? You might let him take you home anyway.

You sat with him at an abandoned table, leaning your head on your hand as you half - listened to him talk about stocks. You glanced around the room and spotted Logan again almost immediately. 

He was leaning against the wall with a girl hanging from his arm. She was talking away and he looked completely disinterested. The whole point of coming was to distract yourself from anything to do with him and there you were, ignoring your date to silently seethe at a girl who was only in his vicinity.

You tried to zone back in on the conversation and really pay attention when he started to talk about his job. It was some tech company you’d heard of, a big name in the industry.

“Oh, so, what do you do there?” 

“Well, I own it.”

You squinted and sat up straight.

“You own the company.”

It was more of a statement than a question.

He nodded and you raised your eyebrows. This was going much better than you anticipated. You couldn’t help but glance over at Logan to see that girl still standing with him.  She was twirling a strand of her long hair around her finger. She was undeniably pretty, so you wondered why he wasn’t even looking at her while she hung all over him.

“Hey, would you wanna dance with me again? I know it’s a little slow paced, but I love this song.”

You returned your attention to the man in front of you and smiled as politely as possible.

“You know what? Sure, why not.”

You let him lead you into the middle of the room and rest his hands on your hips. He pulled you much closer than you’d been standing before, so much so that you were nearly stepping on his shoes. His hands slid down further and you laughed a little to yourself. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? So you wondered why it didn’t feel like something you wanted at all.

You caught Ororo’s gaze from across the room and she smiled, flashing you a thumbs up. When you caught Logan’s gaze, he was anything but smiling. There was a reason you felt like all this was something you didn’t want - you knew you wished it was him you were standing with. Still, you weren’t sure of why he wouldn’t tear his eyes from you or why he had such a scowl on his face. 

You stopped staring back when your date planted a kiss on your forehead.

“What was that for?”

“Well, I kinda wanted to kiss you but I figured maybe goin’ right for the lips might have been too much.”

“We don’t even know each other's names.”

“Do we have to?”

You thought hard for a moment, wondering if Logan was still watching. It wasn’t fair to kiss someone just to try to make another person jealous, you knew that. He didn’t even have a reason to be jealous.

“You can kiss me.”

He was an alright kisser - nothing exciting. His lips were soft, though, and you liked the smell of his cologne. Before you could deepen the kiss any further, he was tugged backwards and off of you.

Logan had the back of the poor guy's jacket in his fists, nearly yanking him down to the floor with how much force he used.

“Alright, bub,” he grunted, “I think that's enough, she’s leavin’.”

You glared daggers at him with your lips parted in surprise.

“I can leave when I want to,” you said through gritted teeth, “what the hell is your problem?”

“Is he your boyfriend?” your date asked, nervously looking between you both.

“He’s n-” you began to answer and Logan cut you off as he grabbed your arm.

“Yeah. Get lost.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows in anger but could feel your face becoming warm. You weren’t totally sure if you were turning pink from how enraged you were with Logan or from the words that just came out of his mouth.

“Outside. Now,” you demanded, tugging your arm from his grip.

You turned to walk away and he followed as you grumbled to him, holding your dress up a bit so you wouldn’t trip as you stomped out.

‘What the fuck was that?”

He didn’t answer, simply following at your heels with his eyes on the marble floor of the corridor. You swung open the door and stepped into the cool summer evening air, waiting until the door shut behind you to speak again.

“What, you didn’t want me to win the bet?” you guessed with raised eyebrows.

“You’re really gonna let some guy you don’t know shove his tongue in your mouth?”

You stood in stunned silence for a moment.

“Are you kidding? How is that any of your business?”

He scoffed and shook his head.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna let some asshole be all over you just ‘cause he's got money.”

“What?” you furrowed your eyebrows, “why do you care?”

“Why don’t you? Seriously, you’d just go home with some guy and fuck him?”

“I don’t - I don’t know,” you stuttered, “maybe, but that was part of that stupid bet! Not that it’s any of your concern!”

You were nearly shouting at each other.

He clicked his tongue and spoke in a sour tone, “none of my concern, sure. I didn’t think you’d actually try and go home with someone -”

“Okay, you know what?” you threw your hands up in frustration, “I don’t know what the hell your problem is or why you’re acting like some jealous boyfriend, but fucking cut it out!”

You were both finally quiet for a moment. The sound of cicadas and crickets songs filled the silence. Logan’s face was pleading, his features highlighted by the soft golden yellow light seeping through the building’s windows.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” he mumbled under his breath, his arms crossed over his chest.

You raised your eyebrows, “get what?”

You sounded exasperated, sick of playing what felt like the worst game of twenty questions ever.

Logan brought a hand to his face, scratching at his facial hair - something you recognized as a nervous habit.

“That stupid fuckin’ notebook, the little one you write in,” he groaned, “I just wish I never read it.”

“So, you’re mad about that?” You asked, clearly still confused as to what he was trying to say, “listen, I’m sorry, it wasn’t -“

“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying,” he interrupted, “it’s - fuck, I don’t know. I don’t know, It's like I read that damn thing and lost my mind.”

You waited for him to elaborate, a puzzled expression still plastered on your face.

“It’s all I can think about, all the time - it's like I close my eyes and I can still see it written down in your chicken scratch. I don’t even know what to do, It’s so stupid,” he huffed.

You still didn’t understand what he was trying to tell you or whether he was talking to you or himself.

“And then - I don’t know, alright - you look so…” he groaned with his face in his hands, “I like you - is that enough? Ya’ get it? I liked you for awhile and then Scott had to go peekin’ through shit that wasn’t his and reading that shit you wrote just made it even worse for me. I’m supposed to read that you wanna ‘fuck me senseless’ and just let it go? You thought that wasn’t gonna do something to me?”

You were slack jawed, feeling like your legs were going to give out from under you.

He seemed angry, his nostrils flaring while he held a frown.

“So…you -“ 

His hands cupped your face and he leaned down close enough for you to feel his warm breath on your skin.

“So, I want you to fuck me like you said you wanted to.”

Your eyes grew so wide that you feared they might pop out of your head. 

“Would you, if I asked?” He continued in a low voice.

Your stomach erupted in butterflies and you nodded without hesitation. Conversations like this with Logan had only ever happened in your dreams.

His lips finally connecting with yours made your head spin. If he wasn’t tenderly holding your face, you might’ve just let yourself fall to the ground.

“I’ve been thinking about you for months, you know,” he admitted when he pulled away, “watchin’ when you walk away, thinking about how you say my name, wishing I could just tell ya’ - I didn’t have the nerve. Seein’ you with another guy, though - I couldn’t take it anymore. I thought I could and I just can't.”

You almost expected to hear the beeping of your alarm clock that would startle you awake in your bedroom. Still, it never came. You could feel his hot breath on your face, the breeze on your skin, the warmth of his hands; it was all too real.

“You mean it? All of it?”

You didn’t know why your voice sounded so desperate, almost pleading with him not to toy with you.

“ ‘course I do. Of course, I mean - god, look at you.”

His mouth was on yours again and you smiled against his lips, your cheeks tinted pink.

“Hey, wait,” you pulled away momentarily, “why did you agree to that bet in the first place, then?”

He gnawed on his bottom lip anxiously.

“I kinda figured you wouldn’t be able to find someone good enough, I don’t know - maybe I could convince you to come back with me instead.”

“That was your plan?” you let out a small laugh, smiling so wide that your face began to ache.

“Well, It might’ve worked if you hadn’t met what’s-his-face in there.”

“I don’t know his name,” you shrugged, “didn’t care to ask.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you.

“I let him kiss me because I wanted to make you jealous,” you admitted, “I still like you.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

His expression was as smug as could be.

“That you still like me? Yeah.”

“How? Am I that obvious?”

“It’s not your fault,” he shrugged and lowered his voice to a whisper as he put his lips to your ear, “I could smell how wet you’ve been all night.”

You swallowed hard and shivered when his hand slid up your back.

“And it worked, by the way - I’m jealous.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded and leaned his forehead against yours.

“Well,” you affectionately scratched at the hair at the back of his head, “are you gonna do something about it, then?” 

He kissed you with much more fever than before and you caught his lower lip between your teeth, making him groan into your mouth. His hands were in your hair to push you even further into him to the point he was practically hunched over your body. When you finally took a second to catch your breath, you had a realization.

“I won the bet.”

He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Please tell me you don’t mean you’re actually still gonna go home with that guy.”

“No,” you rolled your eyes and let out an amused scoff, “I meant you, Logan.”

“Me,” he repeated with a beaming smile, “you’re coming home with me.”

You nodded and giggled, absentmindedly fixing the hair hanging in front of his forehead. 

He was staring into your eyes in a way that had you feeling as though there was nothing else around you - no fancy party inside, no responsibility to socialize - just you and Logan in the cool light of the moon. He was studying your face like he’d never see it again if he turned away.

“What if I couldn’t wait till we got home?” He asked quietly. His warm breath just barely grazed your lips.

Your eyes widened and you thought for a moment, looking between him and the door beside you.

“C’mere,” you instructed simply, taking him by his hand and leading him inside to walk down the main hallway. You scanned the area and once you were sure no one would see either of you, you began trying knobs of different doors to see if one would open. When one finally gave, you slipped inside with Logan in toe and flicked on the lights. It was a small dusty office, one that probably hadn’t been used in a few months at the very least.

Neither of you wasted any time in taking advantage of your newfound isolation. Logan was kissing you like he was starving to taste you, working his way down your neck with an open mouth to leave darkening spots slick with his saliva.

“Logan,” you sighed, eyes fluttering closed momentarily from the way he was nipping and sucking at your skin.

“I love when you say my name,” he admitted, mumbling into your neck. His hands were everywhere - tangled in your hair, resting on your waist, your hips, your ass - he was desperate to keep his hands on you now that he had you. 

You disconnected your lips for a moment so you could hop back to sit up on the top of the desk behind you. You hiked the skirt of your dress above your knees to avoid ripping it and motioned for him to stand between your knees as you held the middle of the skirt down with one hand.

“I’ve got an idea for my reward for winning the bet,” you smiled mischievously, leaning up to hold his chin and force him to look you in the eye, “what do you say, pretty boy? You wanna be part of it?”

He nodded eagerly and the pace of his breathing increased significantly.

“Good,” you leaned back on one hand, using the other to tug at Logan’s suit jacket, “off.”

He obeyed without hesitation and shrugged the garment off his shoulders. He began to untuck his shirt and you stopped him with a gentle touch.

“Did I say to take that off too, sweetheart? I don’t think I did,” you spoke softly in a firm tone.

“No - no, ma’am.”

It drove you crazy to have him under your thumb in that way, his usual domineering nature and dominance melting away by the second. 

“So do as you're told, baby,” you instructed, “if you’re good for me, maybe I’ll reward you back.”

You could see him swallow hard, eyelids nearly fluttering closed when he thought of all the possibilities of what that might entail. 

“F- mhm, fuck,” he stuttered when you brought a hand to the front of his pants and barely grazed the spot below the button with your fingertips. He began to twitch more and more with every touch.

“Are you gonna say yes?” your voice was near taunting, “or do I have to try a little more convincing?”

You popped the button on the front of his pants with ease and slid your hand underneath to feel him over the soft fabric of his underwear.

“Yeah, yes, I - ah, yeah,” he moaned in response, rocking his hips towards your hand and resting his forehead on your shoulder.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You smiled and gently kissed his temple.There was something so lovably vulnerable about the way he was acting with you. You knew he’d never let another soul find out that he loved what you did to him - dreaming of you whispering affectionate nicknames and praise as he sloppily pounded into you or spending hours on his sore knees just so he could feel you cum on his face - but the intensity of his devotion bordered otherworldly. 

“Do me a favor, baby,” you started, lifting your hips for a second to drag your panties down your legs, “take out your pretty cock for me.”

He obeyed, tugging his pants down his thighs just enough for his already hard dick to spring up out of the confines of his briefs. You inadvertently licked your lips at the sight, thinking of how heavenly he’d feel in you. He was huge, but for a guy who’s six foot two, it wasn’t a surprise.

He stood expectantly between your legs with his hands on your thighs. You leaned back on both hands, cocking your head to the side as you spoke.

“Touch yourself first and maybe I’ll let you touch me.”

The ‘maybe’ was a bluff. He knew as well as you did that you’d let him touch you regardless.

“Gimme your hand,” you ordered before he could even wrap his fingers around himself. You leaned your mouth over the palm of his hand and spat.

He groaned from the gesture alone, knees nearly buckling when he finally brought his hand down to coat his cock in your saliva.

“Feels good?” You cooed, eyes flickering from his face to his leaking cock in his fist.

“Mm - mhm, yeah, ‘s good,” he panted, “really fucking good.”

You failed an attempt to hide your wide smile, hypnotized by the repeated motion of his hand. He looked so pretty like this - his jaw hung open, chest heaving while his face became more flushed with every passing second. You could feel the rush of heat in your lower stomach just from watching him.

You couldn’t help yourself from leaning forward a little and unbuttoning his shirt from the top down, all while he watched you intently, his breathing becoming heavier the closer your hand came to his.

“Think of you all the time when I do this at home,” he panted, “you’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

The compliment made your heart swell; it was a sweet remark that so greatly contrasted the obscene speed of his hand as he stroked himself. 

“You’re such a pretty boy,” you whispered and planted a kiss on his pink cheek, “you look amazing.”

You caught the way the motion of his hand slowed and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching forward and wrapping your fingers around his cock. He growled, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Don’t work yourself up so soon, kitty cat, or you’re gonna be finished before I even get to fuck you,” you murmured into his ear and he gasped as you started to pump him.

“Don’t - ah - don’t call me that,” he whimpered.

“Aw, you don’t like it, my pretty kitty?”

He growled again, even more animalistically , but his hips jerking into your hand told you he really didn’t hate that nickname as much as he told you he did.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” you continued to tease, “I know you like it - you love bein’ my big, pretty kitty.”

He groaned, lifting his head from your shoulder and crashing his lips into yours. 

“Sh-shut up,” he managed to grunt.

You immediately withdrew your hand and sat back again.

He whimpered from the loss of contact and looked at you with pleading eyes, silently asking why you stopped.

“I said you had to be good for me, didn’t I?” you asked.

He nodded, eyes traveling from your thighs, up your body and then back down again. 

“Good boys don’t talk back,” you said simply, raising your eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, I’ll - I’m good, I’ll behave, just please -“

His speech was cut short when you hiked your dress up even further to expose your bare, wet pussy.

“Fucking Christ,” he moaned.

You tugged the top of your dress down to expose your chest and he had to grip the desk you were sitting on so his legs wouldn’t give out from under him. 

“If you can be real quiet,” you pushed some fallen hair out of his face, “I’ll let you cum in me. You want that?”

“Please, ‘v been thinking of that for fucking weeks,” he begged, “please, please, baby.”

He tentatively cupped one of your breasts and you rested your hand atop his, encouraging him to squeeze and knead however he pleased. You spurred him on to the point that he couldn’t resist leaning down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue and sucking while his fingers toyed with the other one.

You couldn’t help whining from the sensation of his mouth on you while you combed your fingers through his hair.

He finally detached himself after ravishing your chest in wet kisses and left a string of saliva connecting his tongue to your nipple. You giggled a little to yourself and crashed your lips into his again in a heated mess of tongues and teeth. You scooted your hips up on the table and used your grip on his cock to graze his tip up against you, making him shudder.

“You’re so - fuck, you’re such a fuckin’ tease,” he gasped and held your hips in an iron grip.

“What’d I say about back talk?” you moved the head of his cock further away from you.

He groaned in frustration, moving his hands to hold your face, “Honey, I’m already beggin’ -  please, I need you.”

The desperation in his voice made you even wetter.

“I guess you’ve been pretty good for me - do you think you deserve it?” 

He nodded eagerly and placed his hand over yours that was around him. You let him nudge your hand away to align himself with your entrance. His eyes bore into yours as he finally began to push himself into you, rocking his hips slowly to help you adjust to his size. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he wrapped his around your waist. When he fully sheathed himself inside of you, he let out a loud moan that echoed through the small space.

“I told you to be quiet, sweetheart,” you whispered into his ear.

“Uh-huh, ‘s a lil’ hard when I’m fuckin’ a girl I’ve been dreamin’  about for months,” he mumbled, working up a steady pace while you wrapped your legs around him and locked your ankles at the small of his back to help push him further into you.

“You feel so good, Logan,” you moaned, kissing down his jaw and throat.

He groaned at full volume again.

“Are you gonna stay quiet? or do I have to shut you up? Hm?” you grinned and he made an even louder noise. You reached behind you to find your panties and folded them into a ball, holding his jaw with your other hand.

“Open.”

He obeyed immediately, rolling his eyes into the back of his head when you stuffed them into his open mouth.

“Good kitty.”

He let out a muffled growl and the speed of his hips increased.

“Yeah,” you panted, “I know you like that.”

The angle at which he was fucking you made it so that he was hitting the sensitive spot inside of you over and over again, making you gasp each time. Sweat was forming on his neck and down both your chests, practically sticking your skin together in the hot, stuffy room.

“You’re - you’re so pretty,” you told him truthfully, admiring the rosey tint of his face and the drool that was starting to run down from the corner of his mouth. His eyelids fluttered closed and he started to thrust into you hard enough to shake the desk you were sitting on. 

“Easy, kitty cat - you’re gonna break somethin’,” you muttered into the hot skin of his neck with a smug smile on your face.

His pace didn’t falter in the slightest, his hands gripping your ass to push you towards him every time he slammed his hips forward. The fabric of your panties muffled the guttural moan he choked on when you lightly sunk your teeth into his shoulder. He slid his hand between your bodies to bring his thumb to your clit, working tight circles around the bundle of nerves in rhythm with the thrust of his hips.

“Fuck, fuck, I-“ you were speechless, at a loss for words from the brutal combination of the pressure he applied with his fingers and the way he repeatedly hit that spot inside of you. His eyes were squeezed shut and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, still whining and growling like an animal into the fabric of your underwear. You felt the heat in your lower stomach start to build and you buried your face in his shoulder, your mascara smudged under your eyes.

“Logan, Logan, I’m - ah - ‘m gonna come,” you warned, tugging on the back of his hair.

He groaned and yanked the fabric out of his mouth, immediately bringing his lips to yours so he could tenderly make out with you while the squelching sound of your dripping cunt filled the room. 

“C’mon,” he growled into your mouth, “c’mon, baby, please.”

Both your chins were slick with each other's saliva from the frantic way you’d smashed your lips together. Your whining and pleading became louder with every roll of his hips until the sensation sent you over the edge, euphoria blossoming from your lower stomach and spreading all throughout your body.

“Oh my god, Logan,” you nearly yelled, your hands slipping under his open shirt to scratch down his back, “s-so good. I love you.”

The three words slipped out without hesitation and your eyes widened, mild humiliation replacing the fading feeling of your orgasm.

His hips rutted against yours when you spoke and he leaned his face down so he was nose to nose with you.

“Love you so much.”

He kissed you softly with both his hands on your cheeks, so filled with affection that you could’ve cried. He slid his hands down back to your hips and kept his forehead against yours as he continued to drill into you.

“I don’t - I don’t ever wanna see ya’ with anybody else,” he panted, “I needed ya’ so bad. You - ah - ya’ drive me crazy.”

Even after having already came, his pussy-drunk rambling still spawned butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

“You’ll never see me with someone else, baby - promise. ‘s always been you. Only ever really wanted you,” you admitted with a soft voice.

His thrusts became sloppy and you could tell that spurring him on with your words would make him finish just as quickly as you did.

“I’m yours, always have been,” you whispered in his ear, “you’re the only one I’ve ever thought about fucking me like this.”

He choked out a sob into your shoulder and came with an animalistic growl, looking down to watch the mess being made all over your inner thighs.

“Love you so fucking much,” he repeated with a sigh, slowly stopping the thrust of his hips and resting his head against yours again.

“I love you, too,” you replied and planted a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Sorry I made such a mess of ya’,” he apologized, spreading your thighs as he pulled out, “I’ll clean ya’ up when we’re home, I swear.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you chuckled, readjusting your dress and slipping your underwear back on while Logan tucked himself back into his pants and buttoned his shirt.

You caught a glimpse of the watch on his wrist as he moved and grabbed his hand so you could see the time.

“Shit! We were supposed to meet everyone back out front ten minutes ago,” you realized aloud, slipping yourself off the desk and pulling your dress down.

He mirrored your haste and let you fix his hair, doing the same for you and wiping away the mascara under your eyes.

“Okay, okay, c’mon,” you insisted, opening the door and slipping out hand in hand. You scurried down the abandoned corridor and all the way to the front exit. When Logan pushed open the door, you were met with Jean, Scott, and Ororo standing with worried expressions.

“What happened to you guys?” Scott asked before Jean nudged him in the arm, pointing towards your intertwined hands.

You looked towards where she was pointing and back up again, “Oh, uh…”

You tried to think of an excuse and looked to Logan beside you for help. 

“Nothin’,” he said in a nonchalant manner, “just got lost around the place - lot’s of rooms in there.”

Ororo raised her eyebrows suspiciously. 

“Sure, and, uh - Is that why you’re holding hands?”

You laughed a little, tugging his hand behind your back.

“Well,” you started, “remember I said I’d try to bag a guy tonight? Um-”

“I’ve been bagged,” Logan interrupted with a huge, smug grin.

“I wasn’t gonna put it like that,” you insisted, “but - yeah.”

“Finally,” Jean huffed and rolled her eyes, “I thought we’d have to have an intervention.”

“Huh?” Logan narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, c’mon,” Ororo laughed, “we all knew you liked each other, even before you did.” 

“And you never said anything?” Logan asked.

“Neither of you ever believed us!”

“True,” you agreed with a shrug and giggle. 

“I believe you now,” he stated, still holding your hand as you all made your way into the night, “She might like me. Just a little bit.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

A/N: Thank you so much if you read till the end :) !! I did get stuck with some writers block in the middle of this and I'm not completely fulfilled w it but if I kept working on it it may take another week and my brain can't do it

Still working on requests rn so if you sent one in, I haven't forgotten about you!!! I'm trying to do two at a time so I can keep up (I won't burn myself out dw I usually do nothing all day till I work in the afternoon) <3

[giggly-squiggily]

Bus Stop Antics (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Guess who's obsessed with JJK again? Mee! Heyo everyone, I hope you're doing well! I'm watching season 2 of JJK and I'm just- these three make me so happy and so sad at the same time, you know? I love them and their friendship but if you've watch the show/read the manga it just...hurts.

But anyway! I wanted to write Lee!Gojo and I did :P I have this headcanon that when he was a teen he was stupidly ticklish and couldn't hide it as well as he can in his adult years and this is the result. I hope you like it!

CW: swearing, JJK season 2 spoilers!

Summary: While waiting for their bus, Gojo and Geto get into a "fight". Shoko unintentionally makes things worse.

Light burned against his skin, making Geto scrunch his face up as he stared into the sky. Not even the roof of the bus stop shelter completely protected him from the sun’s invasive rays.

“Aww, what’s wrong? Too bright for you?” Gojo grinned cheekily over at him, eyes hidden behind his usual shades. He was lounged all the way back, arms across the top of the bench they sat against and legs crossed. “Should have followed my lead and bought some sunglasses.”

“No way- you already fill the role of dork for both of us. Right Shoko?” Geto peered down at the mentioned girl, tucked away between them and doubled over in her seat.

“Mmm.” She made a noise in response, too focused on her phone. Across the screen, her self-named virus spread from one spot to another, infecting the virtual nation. Once she was invested in her game, there was no way of pulling her back out. “See, she agrees.”

A poke to the cheek made him look up. “You’re just bitter because I’m a trendsetter. Everyone’s gonna remember me with my cool shades and blue eyes and remember you as…well, the guy with dumb bangs.” Gojo chuckled, snickering harder at Geto’s death stare.

“My bangs aren’t dumb- you just have no sense of style.” Geto poked his face back, pushing in enough to make Gojo’s cheek move.

“Says Mr. No Eyebrows.” A finger poke back.

“Gray hair at sixteen.”

“At least my breath doesn’t smell like spirit boogies.”

“No it smells like di-”

“I won.” Shoko blinked back at the face shoving war going down above her. “I’m gonna go smoke. Save my seat.” She said as she stood, pulling out her cigarettes and leaving them to their war.

“You son of a- get over here!” Geto lunged, sending them both tumbling against the bench seat. Limbs flew and fists missed as they tussled, shoving at one another while continuing their childish name calling. At some point Gojo managed to grab the back of Geto’s hair, pulling him upright. In response, Geto reached out to grab his neck, aiming for his collar.

“HA! Gotcha no-AH!” Gojo spasmed when fingers brushed his collarbone, the hand in Geto’s hair pulling hard enough to set his hair free. Eyes widened behind falling green strands as Geto stared at him, hand frozen at his neck. “Watch the hands!”

“Dude, I barely touched….you.” Geto blinked, the puzzle pieces all falling into place. “Get out of here.” Without warning, he wormed his fingers into Gojo’s collarbone, wiggling gently.

“Ah! Nohoohoho!” The white haired teen squawked, scrunching up his shoulders at the feeling. He grabbed Geto’s wrist, pushing with all his strength. “Dohohohn’t!”

“Oh my god, you’re ticklish!” Geto was grinning now, all teeth and pure joy in his expression.

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, he is.” Shoko puffed around her cigarette. “Ridiculously so. It was a nightmare trying to practice my curse technique on him.”

“Shoko!” Gojo gaped, betrayed. Then he was squirming, trying to get out of Geto’s grip. “No, no no- don’t you dare! I’m not ticklish! I’m not!” If Geto believed him, he didn’t show it- taking his sweet time in redoing his bun. “That was just a fluke!”

“Sure it was.” Geto finished his hair before rolling his neck, getting all the creeks out. “Now, let’s start telling the truth, huh?”

“I am, you son of a- Gehahahahahahhahaha!” Gojo almost immediately busted out laughing when the fingers returned to his neck, both sides prodding and tasing, making him scrunch and giggle. “Noohohohooho, stahahhahap thahahahhahaht!”

“Aww, you did lie to me! Your best friend, too!” Geto gaped in mock hurt, one hand squeezing under Gojo’s chin when he tried pressing it to his chest, making him snort and kick. “I was gonna go easy on you, but now you’re officially on my shit list. Get ready- I’m gonna make you scream.”

“Nohohohohohoohw whohohohoho’s lhihihihiihihhihiying? Aheahhahahhaha Suhuhuhuuhguhuhuhuhuuruh-OHOOHOHOHOHOHO!” The infinity sorcerer arched with a cackle as Geto attacked his ribs, racing his fingers up and down like a pianist. “Nohohohohoh, nohohohohot the rihihihihihihibs! Nohoohohot the rihihihihihihibs!”

“Too ticklish here? Poor baby.” Geto cooed, tapping along each bone and giving them a scratch. “Should have kept your hands to yourself. Didn’t kindergarten ever teach you that? Oh wait- you haven’t covered it yet.” When his fingers found his third lowest rib, Gojo let out an honest to god shriek, hands clasping his wrists. “Oo, found a bad spot.”

“NOHOHOHOOHOHOHO SUHUHUHUUHUHGUUHUUHUHURUUHUHUHU!” He howled, face flushing an impressive red and glasses falling off his face. Without them, Geto could see the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “STAHAHHAHAHAHHAP!”

“Hmmm…do you really want me to stop?” Geto dropped his hands to his waist, poking along the skin there and making Gojo twitch and squirm. “You and I both know you could easily break away. Why the hesitation? Don’t tell me…” He leaned forward, nearly nose to nose with his friend as his fingers trailed over his belly, earning a hiccupy squeal. “You love this, don’t you Satoru?”

Gojo made a whimpering sound, turning his head away as he giggled and squeaked. Shoko, watching them momentarily, had a rare moment of sympathy for the idiot and decided to throw him a bone.

“Satoru. Suguru’s hips are awful. Just pinch him there.”

Everything that followed was like a blur. Geto turned to her with a look of shock just as Gojo lunged, grabbing his hips and squeezing with all his might. Geto let out a high pitched shriek and toppled over, bringing him and Gojo down and off the bench. Within seconds, they were against the pavement, groaning through giggles and brushing off bruises.

“Heh. Dorks.” Shoko smiled as she put out the remains of her smoke, crushing it with her foot before taking the now empty seat. She kicked her heels up and against Gojo’s back, pulling her phone out and resuming her game. “I think I’m gonna name this virus the Sato-Sugu strain. Whatcha think?”

She got tired groans in response.

“Sold.”

Thanks for reading!

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

Okay, this one is almost guaranteed to trigger cuteness aggression, me thinks:

There's this kid in EoW's Kakariko (westside) who’s blowing air at a windmill & he’s saying that he’s blowing so hard that he’s making the fans move.

So, now I’m imagining a Darling (maybe Leilani, because this feels like the sort of thing she'd do; she gives off those Lani vibes, the ones where when her younger sibs try to push her away, she pretends that gravity is suddenly increasing & playfully crushes them) going, “Wow! Those are some strong lungs, kid!” In response. To which the little man gets a mischievous look & starts to blow air at her really hard, at which point, Darling starts pantomiming being pushed back by a strong gale (just really hamming it up, grunts of exertion & shaking limbs as she trudges in place & everything; we're talking mime-levels of performance but with sound), even using just a little magic to make her clothes flutter behind her & causing a lightweight accessory to nearly be blown away, but she theatrically grabs it ‘just in time.’ “Please, have mercy, it’s so strong! You'll send me to Seesyde!!”

This causes the kid to laugh out loud & her to stop, but to then 'faceplant' as though the wind had just 'suddenly' stopped & she'd been unable to find her footing in time. Kid asks if she's hurt, to which she thumbs up from her place on the ground, face still in the earth comically, which just causes the kid to bust a gut & Darling to start to get back up as she giggles, wiping the dust & dirt from her, not in the least bit embarrassed. Just the big sister vibes!

And, now, I just need the Dorfs to react to this sort of playful interaction. Like, girl didn't even know this kid, but she immediately saw a chance to brighten this kid's day & potentially give him a fun memory to look back on in the tough times, & she took it by golly!

I love these little ones. They're just so cute! And they help to flesh character personalities out. :D

That is very adorable! I know the kid you are talking about. <3 Very cute.

************************************************************************

This scenario is adorable! The sheer playfulness and warmth your Darling shows by engaging with the kid in such a fun and dramatic way would be captivating to any of the Ganondorfs or Demise. Here’s how each would react to witnessing their SO in such a lighthearted interaction:

Wind Waker Ganondorf

Reaction: Wind Waker Ganondorf, with his more introspective nature, would watch the scene unfold with a mixture of curiosity and fondness. Though he usually carries a calm and composed demeanor, seeing his SO act so playfully with a child would warm his heart.

Scene: He watches from a distance, arms crossed and an amused smirk tugging at his lips. Though he doesn’t approach, his eyes soften as his SO dramatically mimes being blown away by the child’s “gale-force winds.” When she faceplants into the dirt, and the kid bursts out laughing, Ganondorf shakes his head slightly, a deep chuckle rumbling from his chest.

He admires her ability to bring joy to others so effortlessly. There’s something about her warmth that reminds him of what life should be—fun, light, and filled with laughter, even in dark times. He might not say anything right then, but later, he’d show subtle appreciation, maybe a gentle touch or a soft remark: “You have a way of bringing light to others, even in the simplest moments.”

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf

Reaction: Ocarina of Time Ganondorf would initially be confused by her actions, considering his more serious and power-hungry personality. But seeing how the kid lights up with laughter and how naturally she handles the situation, he would feel a strange mix of intrigue and begrudging admiration.

Scene: He stands off to the side, raising an eyebrow as his SO throws herself into a pantomime of being blown away. For a moment, he considers how ridiculous it looks, but when the child’s laughter fills the air, he pauses. His stern expression softens ever so slightly as he watches the kid’s joy, realizing that his SO has a gift for creating happiness—even if it’s through absurd theatrics.

Ganondorf’s jaw tightens, feeling a pang of something he doesn't often experience: affection. He wouldn’t express it openly, but later, he might mutter something like, “You’re good with people.” It’s not much, but for him, it’s high praise.

Twilight Princess Ganondorf

Reaction: Twilight Princess Ganondorf would be somewhat bemused by her antics. He’s used to commanding fear and respect, so seeing his SO act so silly with a child would catch him off guard. However, beneath his cold exterior, he would secretly appreciate her warmth and ability to connect with others.

Scene: He watches silently from a shadowed corner, his gaze unreadable. As she hams it up, pretending to be blown away by the child’s "powerful" breath, Ganondorf can’t help but raise an eyebrow, torn between exasperation and quiet admiration. When the child’s laughter rings out, and she faceplants into the dirt, he almost feels… amused.

The corners of his mouth twitch, as if he’s considering a smile but resists. Though he’d never admit it out loud, he finds her ability to bring joy to others oddly endearing. Later, when they’re alone, he might tease her, his voice low and gruff, “Next time, don’t let a child defeat you with mere air.”

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf

Reaction: Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf, with his larger-than-life personality and commanding presence, would be utterly baffled at first. But seeing how the child reacts and how effortlessly his SO can make others smile, he’d eventually relax, appreciating her energy and the joy she spreads.

Scene: Standing tall and imposing, Ganondorf crosses his arms, glaring at the scene before him. His SO, his fearsome and strong partner, is playing pretend with a child, making herself look utterly ridiculous. For a moment, his eyes narrow, his mind whirring, thinking of how unnecessary it all seems.

Then, he hears the child’s loud, gleeful laughter.

Ganondorf’s expression softens. He grumbles under his breath, “Ridiculous…” but there’s no malice in his voice. He sees how much joy she’s brought to the child and realizes that it’s a strength of a different kind. When she approaches him later, he might shake his head, scoff, and say, “You’re too soft.” But his tone would betray a grudging fondness.

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf

Reaction: Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf, being far more ruthless and consumed by darkness, would initially feel some confusion and perhaps annoyance at such a display of levity. However, watching his SO’s ability to make a child laugh despite the oppressive atmosphere would stir something deep within him—perhaps even a moment of reflection on what he’s lost in his pursuit of power.

Scene: Ganondorf observes the interaction from afar, his arms crossed and his expression severe. His SO’s theatrical performance of being blown away seems frivolous to him, a waste of time and energy. But then, he hears the child’s laughter—a sound that cuts through the dark cloud that always seems to hang over him.

He scowls, shaking his head. But for just a moment, his eyes linger on her, and the sight of her giggling with the child tugs at something in him, something long buried. He may not express his feelings directly, but later, he might offer her an unusual gesture of affection—a subtle touch, a lingering glance—as a way of acknowledging her warmth.

Demise

Reaction: Demise, the embodiment of darkness and destruction, would be utterly bewildered by his SO’s playfulness. His instinct would be to scoff at such weakness, but as he watches how effortlessly she can make someone laugh, a rare flicker of amusement might pass through him. He would never fully understand it, but a small part of him might be… intrigued.

Scene: Demise watches with narrowed eyes, his massive arms crossed over his chest as his SO engages in what he considers ridiculous behavior. The child laughs, and she pretends to struggle against the "wind." He doesn’t understand the point of such nonsense.

But then, something strange happens—he finds himself almost entertained. The sight of his SO faceplanting and the child’s roaring laughter make his usual scowl falter. His fiery mane flickers slightly, a rare indication that he’s intrigued. Though he remains silent, he can’t deny that the warmth she brings to others is something beyond his understanding.

Later, he might comment gruffly, “You waste your time with such trivial things,” but there’s no real anger behind it. In fact, deep down, he might even feel… grateful, though he’d never admit it.

In each case, the Ganondorfs and Demise would be taken aback by their SO’s ability to effortlessly bring joy and warmth into the world, even if it’s through playful, silly antics with a child. For them, it’s a glimpse into a different kind of strength—one that they may not fully comprehend but can’t help but respect and appreciate.

[ms0milk]

falling asleep with a claustrophobic s/o

| ft. tengen, rengoku, sanemi, and giyuu

a/n: i'm SUPER cleithrophobic (which is like clastrophobia but more a fear of being trapped and unable to get out, rather than being afraid of small spaces in general) and cuddling is really hard for me. sometimes i, me, the author has to indulge in some VERY specific comfort hcs 🙈

tengen

bedtime got you down?

cuddling feel like being buried alive?

well you’re in luck!

b/c your husband is as broad as a california king

‘but i’m big big :(‘ you protest

to which i say

sorry

he’s even bigger

he will always be bigger than you and he will always want your weight sprawled on top of him

tengen thuds onto his back in a sea of satin sheets

“come”

he pats his chest invitingly and peers over his big old bust at you

“ten, i’m not sleeping on top of you.”

he pouts and drums his chest some more

“you don’t love me anymore”

“your boobs are too big!”

pouty lips curling at the corners, he sits up a bit to reach for your hand

you always fight him when you think you’re being a burden

you don’t wanna fall asleep tangled in his arms?

nonissue

he would sleep on hot coals if it made you more comfortable

smile on his face

“you love these double Ds”

“they’ll give me a crick so bad i die”

you’re not fighting him anymore though, as he takes your hand and pulls you forward

“dying in my arms y/n, very romantic”

it only takes one tug to pull you off balance and your head lands squarely above his heart

you can hear it beating clearly here

and if anything, a little too fast

“you got a crush or ‘sum?” you murmur into his collarbone with one defeated, and cozily squished cheek

it’s perfect like this

you wiggle all your limbs and bask in the freedom

he tosses a blanket over your little dogpile

and rests a hand on the back of your head to keep you from slipping

“y/n, a crush?” he grumbles into your hair, “when we first met, i once– from the thought of you alone– without touching myself– achiev–”

“goodnight tengen”

rengoku

kyojuro is ridiculous i swear

who thought ‘yes i’ll simply write the perfect man and then let him be perfect in front of a yearning audience’??

a sweaty heat between you

legs over hips

your waist in his arms

a thumb swiping at your cheekbone rhythmically

it’s too hot

–can’t bend your arms, can’t free your hips, it's too–

“it’s–it’s too much”

you roll a few times out of his arms to the safety of your empty futon beside his

“i’m sorry kyo”

he’s warm and wide and heavy and so fucking cuddly

“my love, are you alright?”

when you peek at him behind you, in his own bedding, his golden eyes look so concerned it kills you

he’s propped himself up on an elbow

ready to jump into action

has he offended you?

are you unwell?

do you need a doctor?

“i’m sorry” you murmur and turn away from him “i’m tired, i don’t want to touch tonight”

“oh love, i’m sorry, i wasn’t trying to–”

“no, no” you roll back over in a hurry to correct him, “i just have to be over here right now”

he doesn’t understand

“are…um, have i, maybe..”

how could you possibly tell the man who hung the stars for you that holding him at night makes it difficult to breathe?

“my chest,” you pull one of his hands out of his blanket and press it against your heart, across the divide of your futons laid side by side, “it feels tight when i’m in closed spaces”

he melts in your touch and lowers himself back into bed to listen

“i don’t...like feeling like i can’t move”

it takes him all of eight seconds to cure your anxiety

“i hold you at night to make you feel safe. It has not been. My darling, what can i do to comfort you?”

i life without this man is no life at all

you fall asleep easily on his outstretched arm that night, his other hand rubbing patterns down your back

“you should always tell me these things y/n, i will help you.”

from then on, on days where his arms are too heavy for you, or his bedding is too hot, kyojuro tucks you in and then falls asleep facing your futon so that the first and last thing he sees everyday is you at peace

sanemi

“what do you mean you don’t want me to hold you? are you fucking defective?”

ah yes

doesn’t he just make your knees weak

“real panty soaker you are nems”

sanemi is behind you and seconds away from reaching an arm across your waist, having finally gathered enough courage to spoon you

this is what people want right?!

to be the little spoon??

he would want that if he were you

you roll away from him two times to make sure you’re facing him and far enough away to see his face clearly

it’s whole fucking ordeal

“i don’t like getting spooned”

“huh?” he grimaces

and makes a dramatic show of stretching his arms out wide in exasperation

“it’s just too restrictive! i don’t like it”

“you don’t seem to care about restriction when i’m fucking folding you in–”

“do not finish that sentence”

“–half!”

first night together going just swimmingly 🤟🏽

sanemi finally has a chance to be gentle with you and you don’t even want it

“how do you normally sleep?” your airy voice snaps him momentarily out of a rage

“however i fucking want”

“then get comfortable”

“what?”

what are you talking about?

“go on then” you repeat, holding back giggles from the other side of the mattress “get comfortable, I have an idea”

he looks to you and then back up at the ceiling and huffs

“c’mon nems jus–”

his arms suddenly shoot straight out next to him and he kicks up his knees under the blanket

⭐️

he’s still staring at the ceiling but now his face is bright red

“o-oh,” you bite back laughter, “is this..is this how you do it normally?”

“shut up”

he’s not embarrassed for long though, as you snake your way beside him

“let me know if you don’t like it”

he’s not sure what he’s expecting– anything? everything?– and he’s really not sure how to breathe when you lay a careful head on his shoulder

you press your chests together and tuck one of your thighs between his legs

adjust your cheek into the hollow of his collarbone

“is this okay sanemi? you lay on your back, i lay on my stomach”

is this okay sanemi

he might love you

“you sleep like a starfish so i’ll just latch on where i can”

“whatever”

he’s thankful you can’t see him fighting to not bury his face in your sweet hair

“oh i get it” your voice and chest rumble with laughter against his body “you just want me to spoon you”

and for the first time all night he’s too distracted to be a bloodthirsty bastard

“you can do that?”

“roll over”

giyuu

three demon hordes, two sleepless nights, and one lost finger

and this is going to be what kills you?

giyuu gulps

you don’t even make a sound

you’re both hovering at the foot of a single futon in the center of the inn room

“i asked for two”

is the only thing he can muster

you shake yourself out of your daze and rest a hand on your sword hilt

“we can do this”

giyuu nods vaguely but doesn’t look at you

you’ve been together for weeks

a hundred years longer than the hashira thought anyone could stand him

but haven’t needed to fall asleep together yet

‘burn that bridge when we cross it,’ you always thought

besides, you and giyuu have never needed a bed

giyuu is the first to lay down after bathing

he stands up politely when you enter the room from your own bath but you can tell he’s exhausted

he’s back down even faster than he stood and visibly fighting the urge to sleep for forty days and nights

you sink to your knees beside the bed

“may i?”

and before you even get the last word out, he’s tossing the blanket back for you

dark eyes

parted lips

hair covering his face in long tumbles

“please”

gods you have such a big crush on this little awkward man

okay

alright

your first full night together might not be so scary after all

he looks like he’ll fall asleep immediately

you might not even have to tell him–

“y/n,” he tugs on you before pulling the blanket up so far it floats down over your heads,

“closer.”

he hates this

he can’t feel your warmth

“tomioka wait– i–”

he moves closer before you can finish your thought

and cups your hands in his

it’s difficult to make out his expression in the dim candlelight filtering through your comforter

but you wish you could have seen exactly how he looked before he brought both of your hands to his lips for a gentle kiss

 in one hand he laces your fingers together and with the other he pulls the bedding back down to a reasonable shoulder-level

“don’t worry y/n, i know you don’t like tight spaces”

you’re laying on your sides facing each other, fingers tangled together

“is it okay if i hold you.. like this?”

you nod, blissfully

sleepily

you really didn’t have to tell him

“i’m sorry about your finger”

…

“what?”

“your finger”

he murmurs into your knuckles still held against his face

eyes closed so gently they flutter

“the one a demon bit off”

right

you exhale softly in laughter, the air blowing over his cheek

“don’t worry, it was my least favorite”

“mine too”

op-

there he is

[remakethestars]

Being Batman’s Daughter Would Include:

Headcanons.

❝Listen, Robin. At their core, people are cowardly and self-serving. Trust no one until you know them. And even then, never completely.❞

— Bruce Wayne, “The Lesson Plan”

TRIGGER WARNING: Plant murder. Mentions of drugs/tranqs (stopping dealers), violence/physical harm, broken bones (knee cap), limb dislocation (shoulder), (Jason’s) death, smoke, waterboarding/drowning?

Headcanon masterlist.

You know how every teenager has that paradigm shift because as much as they love the people around them, they’ll never know the inner workings of your psyche? And they realize they’ll never truly be known? And it makes them feel really lonely?

Yeah, you never come to feel like that because you know Bruce digs so far into everyone around him he probably knows you better than you do.

Honestly, he probably reads your diary. At least, he reads the fake one you hide under your mattress. And the second decoy in the A.C. vent above your dresser.

If you’re as paranoid as Bruce, you probably don’t have a diary, and the aforementioned “decoys” are just to mess with him.

Sun Tzu’s The Art of War was practically your Bible growing up.

You’re torn between giving yourself the tactical advantage of being underestimated & being non-reactive, which — besides giving you the lioness role in the lion–gazelle dynamic — gives you the advantage of having time to think carefully on the repercussions before speaking.

Because, as Sun Tzu said in chapter seven, verse twenty-one, “Ponder and deliberate before you make a move.”

Seeing as Bruce and Damian both have eidetic memories, I’m guessing you do too. 

Which means you totally read the dictionary when you were young and whip our big words nobody’s heard of.

Bruce always assured you it’s okay to be scared. As a matter of fact, like he told Dick (seen in flashbacks in “The Lesson Plan”), he taught you to “Let terror embrace you. The better you know fear, the better you can use it against others.”

And we all know Bruce is the paragon of using fear against people.

Take that, Scarecrow!

(See, I chose that gif because earlier in that move, he displays a fear of bats, & in that scene, he summons them to use as a distraction and walks through them completely unperturbed. No? Okay, I’ll see myself out.)

You started into the vigilante business young, a little bulge under the back of Batman’s cape that made the rest of the Justice League in the meeting think Bruce was host to an alien parasite until your little mask-covered eyes poked up over his shoulder.

The League’s known you since you were young, so they kind of all see you as their niece. That just quadruples the amount of people who are overprotective of you.

Eventually, in your tweens, you think enough’s enough and start out on your own — being underestimated may be an advantage, but it’s getting ridiculous — and you tackle unsolved cases.

You set up various safe houses around the world for your own disposal (using the zeta tubes) and anyone who sees the inside of one in an emergency is always surprised. You don’t really understand why; what serious vigilante doesn’t have secure, state-of-the-art safe locations scattered across the planet?

Sometimes, it gets you into danger, but you always get yourself out of it. If there ever comes a time you can’t, well, you’ve got a direct link to Batman, and if communications fail, you can always yell for your Uncle Clark at the top of your lungs.

If the latter ever comes to fruition, you ask Bruce if he’s disappointed you had to call for back-up or that you called Superman instead of Batman, and he says, “It takes a strong person to admit when they’re weak, [Y/N]; if anything, I’m proud of you. Besides … you’re not the only one who yells for Uncle Clark when they get in over their head.”

Your training entailed hacking and mechanics, so you like to fix computers and sell them on the internet Hugh Jeffreys style. It started out with Macs from the dumpster behind Gotham Academy and turned into a surprising side hustle. Large portions of your profits go into either savings or funding your extracurricular activities. 

You’re using a MacBook that’s running Linux and an iPhone 4 that’s running your own program. 

At some point, your phone falls into the wrong hands, and someone asks why it has such high security. You deadpan and say, “I have three older brothers.” No further explanation required.

One such solo case led you to a ring of drug dealers working in a small town outside of Gotham. You made some tranquillizers and heavy-duty smoke bombs and busted out your shinobi-iri training.

After sliding on a mask covering the bottom half of your face that filtered out smoke, you set all of the bombs off at once in the ventilation system, filling the building and using the infrared in your domino mask to sedate everyone before the cops arrived so no one got hurt (because there would inevitably be a firefight if the cops got involved).

You never go into a situation expecting to go hand-to-hand with someone; you always have a plan to take our your targets quickly an efficiently.

One night, when you’re working on a cold case in Gotham, you stumble across some intel that Poison Ivy’s been stockpiling chemicals and is going to wipe out all human life on Earth.

Luckily for you, Bruce’s paranoia is hereditary; you just happen to carry some white kryptonite in your belt, so you won’t have to go all the way back to the cave to obtain some.

You type out a quick debrief on your wrist computer in case you end up needing to send out an S.O.S., pop on your bottom mask to filter out spores or pheromones she might send in your direction, and bust out your shinobi-iri training again.

Of course, you try the peaceful approach, explaining to Ivy that you agree with her on the tree-hugger front to build rapport (T.B.F., who doesn’t?), but it comes to physical confrontation. You kill every vine that comes your way with a quick punch from your kryptonite ring, toss an expanding polyurethane foam bomb (see Batgirl #38) at her feet, and manage to get an inhibitor collar on her.

Gordon takes her away, and by the next morning, it’s on the news.

“You took down Ivy by yourself?” Bruce asks when you come down for breakfast.

“… Yeah,” you say after a moment, expecting a tongue-lashing.

“Are you hurt?”

“No. She didn’t get a hit in. And before you ask, I had a contingency set up in case things went sideways.”

“… Good job.”

Your dad has the article framed in the batcave, which is the bat-equivalent of having your drawing on the fridge or getting a sticker back on a test.

You’re fighting a grin for the rest of the day.

It bugs you you can’t tell anyone why you’re so happy, so you visit Dick in Blüdhaven while he’s on patrol and give him a play-by-play. You even get a hair-ruffle!

Deathstroke targets you at some point. One of Batman and Nightwing’s worst villains, and he targets you because he knows they love you. You’re the smallest bat at the time, the weakest; he thinks you’ll be the easiest to take.

Boy, was he wrong.

He was trained by the League of Assassins, so you know dropping a smoke bomb’s not going to give you cover (and his mask probably has infrared). His brain processes faster than yours, so tricking him is improbable. He’s probably done enough research on you to know you favor foam bombs and has fast enough reflexes to dodge before they go off.

And he’s jammed your comms so you can’t call for backup. You’re worried he’s got kryptonite on him and will hurt Superman if you call for help.

It’s just you and him.

He has enhanced stamina, so he tries to wear you out. You maintain distance to avoid taking damage and wearing faster.

You always admired Tim for his ability to plan ahead (see, like, the entirety of the Red Robin comics). He doesn’t know how he does it; he just does. He can’t really teach you, so you just watch and learn.

You realize your fight with Slade is just a matter of managing the distance and immobilizing him, so you strike. You duck behind a pillar or grab onto a railing or something and shoot him through the thigh with your grappling gun, reeling him in. He, of course, draws his sword or a knife to cut the line, but you’re already throwing high-density expanding polyurethane bombs.

And, just like that, you’ve single-handedly taken Deathstroke.

It sends a clear message to the rest of the Gotham villains, Blüdhaven’s villains, the League of Assassins — don’t mess with the bat’s little girl. She can hold her own.

Now it’s time for you to come up with another plan to take him down; you doubt the same method will work twice, and you’ve just made a very powerful enemy.

As Wonder Woman’s said, “Do not mistake a desire to avoid violence for an inability to deal with it.” You might go into most situations with a plan to take down your opponent already in motion, but when it comes to an all-out brawl, you’re perfectly capable and don’t pull your punches.

You’re working on an unsolved case in Blüdhaven (Dick’s got enough on his plate) when you get an S.O.S. from the aforementioned along with the feed and recording from his mask. You listen to the mission briefing while you ride back to the cave and then the audio from the Young Justice mission. They got jumped by the League of Shadows in an abandoned factory, and Talia’s trying to coerce Damian into joining the League or whatever.

The usual dropping some smoke bombs and tranqing everyone isn’t going to work on thirty armed League assassins who were trained to fight blind, so you load up on polyurethane foam bombs and call Jason and Cassandra.

The three of you take out the guards outside before splitting up and taking either end of the building (Cass stays with you). You meet in the middle, in the room the team’s being held in.

You highjacked the speakers, so they’re blasting AC/DC’s “Shoot to Thrill” upon Jason’s insistence. You wanted Zayde Wølf or Alice Cooper’s “Hey, Stoopid,” but big brothers will be big brothers.

Jason pops them with rubber bullets from above to slow them down for you while Cass demolishes them and you drop foam bombs, slinging your signature custom shuriken, bonk them over the head with Tim’s staff you picked up along the way, dislocate their arms, or shatter their kneecaps. 

You and Jason get a couple slices from swords that got a little too close, but it’s nothing compared to what you’ve had before. 

When the fighting’s done and the building’s quiet, the team’s, like, “Who the heck are you guys?” 

And Dick’s, like, 😏 “They’re our siblings.” 

Speaking of siblings, you’re older than Damian, and as such, you take upon yourself the honor of teaching him all things pop-culture.

“I have a lot of amazing older siblings. I want to be a good big sister.”

First things first, you give him one of your refurbished e-waste phones and take him to Target to pick out an OtterBox or a LifeProof case or something that’ll keep it safe in the pocket of a vigilante.

Vigilantes are always coming to you when their phone’s broken anyway; you’ve got a stack of spares you’ve repaired.

Then you help him set up a Spotify account (follow me at @remakethestars 😉) and try to help him find his rhythm.

Poor child’s never had Oreos before, so you drag a pack of Double Stuffs out of the cabinet and a glass of milk and show him the best milk-dunking method you know.

You think about handing him a cookie and telling him to waterboard it until the bubbles stop coming up, but cookie-dunking is something every kid does; it’s sacred, and you don’t want him to associate it with violence.

You show him how you and Alfred feed the bats in the batcave.

And you show him Vine compilations and your favorite shows and movies and as many classics as you can, and you put up with him pointing out the inaccuracies and calling them stupid.

Every time he doesn’t get a reference, you write it down so you know what to show him later.

If anything ever happens to you, Damian finds your list and makes it his personal mission to watch/read everything on it. It makes him feel close to you.

You build a relationship with him that’s similar to his and Dick’s, and he comes to you with things he might not be able to come to anyone else with.

Plus, since you live in the manor still and he doesn’t want Bruce to think less of him, it’s you he comes to after a nightmare.

If you know Alfred has pictures of him curled up in your side, you ask him to send them to you. Not for blackmail purposes; just to have.

You’d never use the need of comfort or the sharing of emotions against him because (A) it’s perpetuating toxic masculinity and (B) you don’t want him to think it’s wrong or confirm any of the stupid “strength” things the League of Shadows taught him.

You gave him a stuffed cat that looks like Alfred (the cat, not the butler) with some of your perfume spritzed on it. He verbalized his revulsion when you gave it to him, but on nights he has a bad dream and you’re not home, it brings him comfort.

Titus comes to get you when Damian’s upset. 

Even when he’s not with Damian, he seems to know. Pets are like that.

You’ve learned to trust Titus’s instincts. Damian thinks it’s suspicious when he’s feeling down and you just happen to call.

You never realized it until a long time later, but Ace was acting weird the day Jason came back from the dead.

And he was acting weird the day Jason came back to Gotham too. He ran to the door and began barking. Alfred swept security, but nothing seemed to be off. The whole family was on edge that day.

You were the reason Jason knew he wasn’t completely forgotten; he spotted you through a café window, and you were wearing his jacket.

Visit my headcanon masterlist.

[wizardlyghost]

- NEW THINGS LEARNED:

    - V.A.T.S. is more or less completely useless at long range, offering me a ridiculously low chance of hitting any target. in the long run i guess this will be constructive though, as it will prevent me from growing too dependant on the computer aiming for me.

    - you apparently have to manually activate CRITICALS now, which i didn’t know was a thing. i thought the new little bar that tracks your critical recharge was just for visualisation’s sake and that it automatically spent itself as soon as it was full.

         - this could potentially be good, preventing the wasting of a CRITICAL on an enemy that could just be downed with a regular shot, BUT it also means that i have to a) remember it exists and b) consciously decide when the situation is dire enough to call for the expenditure of a limited resource. Fuck.

    - either my HAND-CRANK LASER RIFLE does less damage than i thought or the SCALY BAG OF DICKS has waaaaaaaaaay more health than i ever expected or would have considered reasonable. i thought my failures last time were just due to me being Bad At Video Games and the MINIGUN’s clunkiness causing me to miss more than i hit, but it seems that he really is just a LIGHTNING-FAST STEEL-PLATED TANK ON LEGS. i spent all of my laser ammo and all of my regular ammo, getting about a 50% sneak-attack-headshot rate, and he still didn’t look like slowing down.

- if these are the kinds of MUTANT APEX PREDATORS that regularly roam the wasteland how are humans still around? even after busting LEGALLYNOTGODZILLA down to 1/3 health from a distance i still had to go finish him off with the MINIGUN, and the only thing that saved me was the fact that i can pause the game to administer STIMPACKS (thank the fucking stars). both of the arms of my POWER ARMOUR got broken though so in any kind of situation where that meant anything i would have lost at least two limbs.

- after killing the aptly-named DEATHCLAW (and looting specifically one hand from him? do DEATHCLAW HANDS carry some kind of totemic significance in the wasteland?) i went back to PRESTON, who brought up the group’s intention to move in to SANCTUARY. even if i didn’t already know he was gonna say this, i would have invited them anyway tbh. seems safer than CONCORD, and MISTER CODSWORTH would definitely appreciate having some friends around the place after all this time.

- and with that, i have reached the end of my prior experience with this game. i reckon i’ll see what happens next tomorrow maybe.

[maddpopcorn]

Frightful || kth

Taehyung x Male!Reader

Request: "request~~ taehyung x male!reader who gets frightened at one of the other members who did a prank on him. (reader is easily scared and often gets emotional after being scared) so instantly the male pouts before his eyes start to tear up, then taehyung comes in and see's. lol i feel like the scenario would be so cute and funny. tae would easily get over protective of the younger male and scold the member who scared him haha. try his best to comfort the male as well !!"

Warnings: some language, jump scares, morning kisses, emotional reader, Taehyung is protective, Taehyung is slightly pissed lmao

A/N: thank you so much for this request! Hope you enjoy! So incredibly sorry that this is so late!!! (editor madison here, why did i take so long, ridiculous)(editor Madison here again to say as much as I love this request, i lost inspo half-way through so my apologies for the mess you’re about to read)

A soft hand glides down your side and massages your hip as light feathery kisses are pressed into your shoulder. You stir, slightly squirming from the ticklish feeling. 

"Wake up, love," a deep, raspy voice whispers out by your ear. You smile at his voice, eyes still closed. The blanket around you moves as he pulls you in tighter, kissing your head gently. Squeezing your eyes shut a couple of times before they flutter open, you turn around to find your boyfriend softly smiling, staring at you with so much love that you swear you’ll melt right here and right now. The morning light peeking out between the curtains basks him in a gentle glow, turning him into even more of an angel than he already is.

"Hi," you whisper, wrapping your arms around him, sighing at his body heat.

“Hi,” Taehyung whispers back, pulling your body on top of him. Giggling, you situate yourself on his body, laying your head on his chest.

"Did you know that I love you?" he asks suddenly, tightening his grip on you.

Your smile widens and you squeeze him, placing a kiss on his chest where his heart lays. "And did you know that I love you, too?"

"Mm, say it again?" He teases. "I don't think I heard you the first time."

You prop yourself up and kiss him, mumbling against his lips, "I love you so much."

He smiles into the kiss. "Mmhmm, I love you, too."

A peaceful silence disperses throughout the room as you both lay there, enjoying each other’s presence. An occasional chirp from a bird outside delicately breaks the silence but other than that, it’s quiet. And it’s nice, especially with Taehyung’s busy schedule interrupting every chance you have to be alone with him. It’s almost too perfect, actually. And then you hear a crash emitting from outside the room and an apology follows soon after from who you can only assume is Namjoon, eliciting a chuckle out of you. Taehyung’s chest rumbles with laughter and he pats your ass, sliding out of your grip. You whine in protest, eliciting a chuckle out of him and he gives you a kiss as an apology.

"Come on, lazy bones, I'm hungry."

You smirk, reaching your hand out for him to take it. Once he does, you pull hard and he falls flat on your chest where all 4 of your limbs wrap around him like a koala. He laughs heartily and with a grunt, he pushes himself up with you still hanging onto him. You giggle and ultimately, allow him to pull you up, the cover falling off of you. Goosebumps litter your skin as the cold air hits you and you're quick to hop off him to steal his clothes. Bad decision on your part as your feet hit the cold floor. Hopping on your feet, you try your best to locate some fuzzy and warm slippers. Taehyung just chuckles as you throw on a pair of his sweat pants and slip into a pair of slippers, effectively protecting your feet. He opens the door and you follow him into the kitchen, your hands lacing together. 

Spotting Yoongi sitting on the stool, distracted by his phone, you greet him, "Good morning, hyung.” 

"Morning, Y/N," he grumbles into his cup, eyes barely open. He lazily grips his phone, playing on it with a cup of coffee, most likely an Americano, in the other. Grabbing a mug out of the cabinets, you fill your cup with coffee. Taehyung winces with a spoon in his mouth and a yogurt in his hand, placing a plat of cold fruit on the island. You playfully roll your eyes, adding the right amount of stuff to your coffee until it turns into your preferred type. Blowing on it, you quietly sip your beverage, leaning against the counter with Taehyung’s arm wrapped around your waist. The rest of the boys all pile into the kitchen, bickering as always.

“Morning, hyungs,” you say behind your cup, already amused and it’s not even 9 in the morning yet. “What is it this time?”

“Namjoon, once again, dropped the pretty vase in the hall,” Seokjin pouts, stomping the floor. “And once again, I’m gonna have to buy a new one.”

“Wasn’t my fault that it was in my way,” Namjoon weakly argues, suddenly interested in his feet. Seokjin mocks him, murmuring “not your fault my ass”. You snicker into your cup. Ahh, never a dull moment in BTS’ dorm. Continuing to drink your coffee, you watch as Seokjin and Jungkook start to “fight”.

“Ah, fight, fight, fight,” both you and Taehyung chant out, fists raised in the air.

“Betting my money on Jungkook,” Taehyung whispers to you, loud enough for Seokjin to hear and gasp before Jungkook neck chops him. 

You ponder, taking another sip and then nod. “Smart decision so I’m gonna bet my money on Seokjin hyung.”

“Thank you, Y/N!” He wheezes out with his head in a head lock, Jungkook furiously rubbing Jin’s head with his fist. “Finally, someone who has a brain.” You heartily laugh at the scene before you. Hoseok and Namjoon only shake their heads as they sit at the island counter by Yoongi, immediately taking pieces of fruit that Taehyung had laid out previously. Jimin comes over, sliding his arm around your shoulders in a side hug, nodding towards Jungkook and you know he’s placing his money on him as well. Taehyung and you both laugh as Jimin shamelessly checks his boyfriend out, whistling and rooting for him.

“Go, Kookie!” he shouts, pushing himself up on to the counter beside you. Immediately, he starts to swing his legs back and forth, playfully nudging your side with his foot. You swat at his feet in return, not really annoyed, making him giggle. After a minute or two of “fighting”, Seokjin raises his hands, making Jungkook release him from his grasp.

“It’s a tie,” he pants out, bending over and practically slaps his hands on his knees. “Definit-definitely a tie.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jungkook crosses his arms and snickers, “Yeah, sure, Jin hyung.” He strolls past Seokjin who is still bent over on his way out of the kitchen before saying something that has Seokjin gasping again in offense.

“But we all know I won.”

Before Seokjin could protest, Jungkook is already out of the kitchen and all you guys can do is double over in laughter as Seokjin stands there, mouth agape. He flares his nostrils and pouts, making his way over to Yoongi where he dramatically drapes himself over his boyfriend. “Rude. Does that boy know how much money I spend on his food alone?”

“I’m sure he realizes it, honey,” Yoongi mumbles, a small smile forming on his face at Seokjin’s antics. Seokjin only pouts more, mumbling a hundred words a minute all while Yoongi’s hand that was previously holding his phone slithers into his, squeezing every once in a while.

Speaking of phones, you had wanted to check Twitter and the news this morning. Patting your pockets, you realize your phone is still on the charger.

“Be right back,” you say, kissing Taehyung’s lips. He nods, chuckling at Seokjin’s rambles. Jimin slaps your butt with his foot when you pass him and you stick your tongue out in response. He only scrunches his nose back, eyes turning into crescents. Chuckling to yourself, you round the corner and jump up, hitting notes that you didn’t even think was possible. Your almost empty coffee cup goes flying, hitting the wall beside you with a bounce as Jungkook yells with his hands out, a fake rubber spider in them. You glare at him with a pout as he laughs, dropping the spider and clutching his sides.

"You're too-too easy to scare," he says, gasping for breath. He pretends to wipe a tear as you continue to pout, hand to chest to calm your breathing down. Not only are you still half asleep, even after your cup of coffee, you're also still in your feels after your little morning session with Taehyung. Feeling the familiar sensation of tears burning, Jungkook gets blurry as they threaten to spill. All you hear is an 'oh shit' before you smack his bicep, sniffling. He waves his hands in the air, panic in his eyes.

"Don't tell Taehyung-"

"Don't tell me what?"

You both turn around to find Taehyung leaning against the wall with your coffee cup in his hand. He glares at Jungkook as he spots you with your teary-eyed self. Setting down your cup, he rushes to you, pulling you into a bear hug. "Care to explain?"

"It was just a prank! I swear!" Jungkook immediately says, nervously laughing. "Right, Y/N?"

You don't say anything, your voice caught in your throat. Not wanting to embarrass yourself even more, you just bury your face into Taehyung's neck. All of the color drains from Jungkook's face when Taehyung curses at him, calling him a piece of spinach in the middle of his spew. The rest of the group files into the hall, the commotion attracting them. After realizing what happened, they bust out laughing as Taehyung roasts the hell out of Jungkook.

"And that is why you are indeed a piece of burnt cabbage. Hmph." He finishes, tugging you back towards his room with you chuckling at his insults. Jungkook's mouth twitches into a smile, knowing you and Taehyung aren't really mad at him as you give him a small smile.

"Sorry, Y/N!" He yells.

Seokjin shakes his head, eyeing the coffee dripping down the wall. “You’re cleaning this up.”

-

When you both get to your room, Taehyung pulls you down with him, both of your bodies hitting the bed with a soft thud. Cupping your cheeks, he wipes away the already drying tears, worry filling his eyes.

“You okay, babe?”

You sniff, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

He tilts his head, not quite believing you and gets up, determined to find something. You eye him, curious as to what he’s trying to do. Digging through a small box, he makes a sound as he pulls something out. Your eyes light up as he shows it to you. It’s your favorite movie, one that can make you feel 10x better the moment it shows the title. He smirks, putting it in the DVD player. Hopping back into the bed, he maneuvers you both until your body is flush against his under the covers. The title music fills the room and the movie begins.

“You’re the best, you know that?” you mumble, snuggling further into his chest, already feeling so much lighter.

He laughs, kissing the top of your head. “I know.”

[blushing-starker]

don't expect that line I previously mentioned because I'm chaotic and forgot about @starkerfestivals amazing omegaverse week since it goes hand in hand with finals and my brain only fit one of these events in my mental planner

Today's theme is heat/rut and it's slightly nff, has some sexual teasing but nothing too explicit. I'd rate this teen, is all I'm saying. I apologize for any writing mistakes, I'm finishing this at 11pm before collapsing in my bed.

Tagging @vaguekiwi cuz I mentioned this to her today

Needy little alpha

------------

Tony wakes up to a purring alpha throwing himself on top of his defenseless body with the force of a freight train driven by a drunk man on drugs. Peter's been told a thousand times before how yes, he may be as heavy as a goddamn feather, but it still aches when that super strength plops down and refuses to let the victim's lungs function adequately. But his boyfriend is a sadist who loves cuddles and making Tony suffer.

"No."

"You love my cuddles," it's true, they bring him pain and purple bruises everywhere but there's nothing quite as soothing as a content alpha kneading like a kitten at his chest, " and you know it. "

"Uh, that's false. Never said I love cuddles. I tolerate your octopus habits, there's a difference." Peter leans back with a pout and teary eyes, wobbles that God forsaken bottom lip like he always does whenever Tony denies the kid something and presents a challenge.

Nimble fingers slide up into, unfortunately, silver hair and nonononono that's unfair. He snarls, tries to infuse the air with as many displeased pheromones as possible so Peter can take a hint when nails scratch right above his nape and Tony's done. Unravels at this hobgoblin's feet and he's half way sure his soul goes out in a huff as little circles are pressed into the exact spot that causes him so much neck pain.

Peter unashamedly preens when Tony melts into their bed and starts pawing at him for more cuddles. "Say you love my cuddles and I won't leave the bed for an hour. Throw in a kiss and I'll rub your back."

He hates(loves) this kid. Hates(loves) how he sing songs as soon as the situation doesn't favour the actually responsible adult in the relationship. Hates(loves) the way Peter never misses the places that leave him sinking into fluffy pillows. Hates how, oh that's nice.

There are tiny kisses littered on a chest glowing blue, small indentations from teasing lips pressed into spread arms and cold hands.

"Ruts gotten you needy, huh, little alpha?" Not that this one was any different from all the other ruts they've shared since dating. Tony secretly adores Peter like this, extra affectionate the minute his shyness and fear of outside criticism is washed away, replaced with the need to shower his omega in love and attention. Yes, Peter has his heart 365 days of the year. Yes, he'd die for his tiny spiderling no matter what.

But this is just really nice, ok? Previous lovers were rarely alphas so this ritual of gluing their bodies together when rut came was an added benefit to being with Peter. That and the hormones he let out while happy soothed Tony to no end.

Peter nips at his finger, still a bit too early on for him to accept the nicknames. He blushes though, a pale pink highlighting a face much more lovely than the cherubs painted on the cathedrals of Rome. Jesus, he's whipped and all they've done is cuddle.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

"I love your cuddles. Cherish them. Want them every day for the rest of my life. But I love you, my needy little alpha with a fantastic," there's a pillow smashed against his face.

"If you say dick, I'm climbing down to wrestle Bucky and I won't let Karen record it for your spank bank. " Oh, that's a low blow.

He relaxes, let's Peter sink into him with a startled yelp, rolls them over, sits on the kid's lap and clamps his knees around a trim waist. Peter may be Spider-Man, but he's Tony Stark and Tony Stark doesn't lose in bed.

Well. Not unless he wants to.

"You do that and you can say hello to your toy, the one I know is stashed in your old room under the bed in a comic book box, because that'll be the only thing helping you out when the rut really hits." Will Tony suffer immensely if that happens? Yes. He's a sucker for a needy Peter being ridiculously horny and possessive. Thing is, you don't threaten a man's spank bank. No sir. Everything else is fair play. His carefully organized folders of viewing material are not to be messed with.

Peter's blush is on full blast, spreads over a long neck and absolutely delicious, no. Be strong, Tony.

"You know about the toy?" It's a squeak, normal voice rocketing upwards thanks to the position Tony's ass is in and the knowledge that his secret is out. Which wasn't even a secret to begin with anyway because Tony is in love with the only genius not smart enough to erase his browser history in the lab's computer. Which Tony uses. Routinely. Every day.

"Know about it? I've seen it. You left it out once, all used up on your bed while you were showering. You remember that, don't you? We had sex in the bathroom that day. Bruised my back and everything?"

Peter furrows his brow, works a plush lip and no, look away, Tony, look away. The kid is sin and indulgence and heaven and no.

"Oh. Oh." Whenever he thinks his boy can't go any redder, Peter busts out a new shade of pink.

"Yup. So. I'm pretty sure this is what you wanted in the first place. Maybe it wasn't your intention," he stresses when Peter's already launching up and nearly throwing him off in an attempt to reassure Tony that wasn't his purpose with the cuddles, "but you certainly wouldn't have minded this outcome. And by this outcome I mean my incredible ass on top of that fantastic dick."

Peter tries to suffocate with a pillow held over his face.

"You've got two choices, kid. You threatened the spank bank. The teasing is fine, you know I love when my pretty kitty shows his claws," a hand slaps his arm, makes him grin, " But threatening such an integral part of my mental stability? Wrong move, Queens. You aren't getting any until tonight, not even so much as a French kiss will be given. Unless you let me bite a mark on that amazing neck and don't push me away when I nuzzle you in front of the team. "

Well. Now he's definitely being thrown off of Peter's lap.

He lands on the other side of the bed with a groan, is assaulted by a whining Peter intent on receiving something to further postpone the urge for sex that's sure to hit him soon enough.

An alpha, Tony's learned, will usually be very cuddly and affectionate the first few days of a rut week. Then the possessive, protective side will slowly emerge. Nests of pillows, couch cushions, blankets and favorite pieces of clothing appear on the fourth sunrise. The next morning comes with the need for relief, for intimacy and a marathon of sex that'll leave any supersoldier exhausted by the end of it. The resulting days offer comfort, an aftercare of sorts, where the alpha and their partner show a soft affection similar to the beginning. Nests are utilized and bodies soothed. It lasts, at most, a week and the majority of the population only has to take slightly increased portions of food.

That's for people without the metabolism of four grown men.

Peter needs sex, as much as possible, so the itch for urgent intimacy doesn't result in Tony tackled to the floor of the lab in the middle of an experiment every day of the week. It's like giving him nicotine patches instead of a cigarette.

So now he's whimpering, tugging on Tony's clothes just a little too hard if the ripping sound is any indication.

"...sorry, Tony..."

"It's fine, I've got more. I'm not letting this go though. The teams' seen us fuck against a wall, their opinion and respect, your worth, didn't change. So come on. Just one little mark. One. And Bucky nuzzles Steve and Sam all the time. Hell, Pepper sometimes nuzzles me when I'm stressed out. Please, baby? "

There it was; Tony's secret weapon. Peter blushed like a virgin on a wedding night whenever he used pet names, but the genius knows his boyfriend enjoys the familiarity and subtle intimacy. Felt reassured that they were a romantic couple and not a mentor fucking his protege.

The kid nibbles at his neck, wraps gangly limbs around a body that's always been his to take comfort in. "Just one mark? And light, I mean it, Tony, light nuzzling in front of the team. For today. Then I can get what I want?"

He snorts, can't fully comprehend how the universe paired him up with someone so intent on making Tony's joints ache and creak. "Yeah, we can have sex later, Mr Charming. Subtle as brick, that Spider-Man. Let's go get you cleaned up, make sure that rut has a hard time getting my boy under the weather."

He goes to get up. He leans forward. He cannot, in fact, leave the bed.

Peter bites with a bit more pressure, drops his hips down harder and Jesus Christ, they're never seeing the light of the kitchen if his boyfriend can't wait til it's dark.

"Or..."

"I'm an old man, I need protein before you go jumping tired bones that have to spend two hours updating your suit." Ok, so maybe he's slightly bitter and annoyed at not having enough stamina (or refractory period, for that matter) to keep up with a repressed teenage superhuman. It's not his fault Pepper keeps bringing Krispy Kreme donuts to the office meetings.

It'd be rude not to eat with the others anyway.

"You don't have to do anything." Ah, it's one of those ruts.

Tony softens, smoothes a hand down a back that could hold a plank under a five story building with ease, kisses a heated cheek.

"Needy little alpha." It's his turn to whisper and nuzzle against soft skin.

"Kind, not so little omega?" Tony laughs, presses their lips together so Peter can see what's it like to taste a smile radiating with joy and love. Slowly clicks the button on the nearest nightstand; unless someone is dying , it'll just be the two of them in the room.

(There was an incident once. Groot may have been traumatized by a situation involving superstrength, webs and the Ironette costume Tony only adored when it adorned Peter's body.)

"I do so love my needy little alpha needing me, don't I?"

His boyfriend blinks, grins at Tony as if he's just hung the moon and stars for his spiderling and ok, a little sex early in the morning isn't that bad.

"You love my cuddles too."

"Shut up and kiss me, Queens. I'm not getting any-"

They don't talk about anything too important after that.

----------

A little sex early in the morning actually is that bad when you miss a meeting with the U.N and show up smelling like sex, infatuation and, oddly enough, strawberry.

Rocket doesn't stop teasing for months.

[skyrim-drabbles-n-stuff]

Reacting to Ldb “booping” their nose and calling them cute

Farkas:

“I..I wait, what?”

As always, he was confused. Don’t get me wrong, he surely didn’t mind being called cute by you but..did you really have to do it in front of Aela? The second his silver eyes met her green gaze, a pink blush erupted from his cheeks to his nose. Regardless of whatever the huntress may say to tease him later, he couldn’t help the sheepish smile that shaped his features as he playfully bumped your side with his shoulder in retaliation.

Only...he forgets that he is freakishly strong, resulting in making his little dovahkiin lover, you, stumble to the ground from what he considered to be “gentle” force of his “bumping”. After that, the whole audience of the mead hall busted into laughter as he scrambled to his knees to see if you were alright- those pretty eyes wide and full of fear..even when you laughed as well.

Brynjolf:

“Heh, you aren’t too bad yourself lass/lad.”

He’d take it pretty well, a mirthful little smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Before you could casually walk away, he’d grab onto your hips, leaning back against the dampened stones of the cistern as he peered down at you. With a small chuckle, he’d lean down and kiss you on the tip of your nose, only after that would he let you go about your business.

Vilkas:

“Well good morning..”

It wasn’t very often that he slept later than you, but the few times he did..this would happen. It came to the point where as soon as he’d be roused to consciousness by your touch, he’d shine a big smile, stretching the slumber from his limbs before pulling you down onto his chest. He’d mumble something about how he wasn’t “cute”, how he was a warrior and such but he’d follow it with a sweet kiss..before falling right back asleep.

Miraak:

“Is that really necessary? Hmm, fine, you’re cute too..”

He should’ve known you were up to no good when you pushed him down onto the chair. Initially he just assumed you were going to do something..eh, something else, a lazy smirk shaping his features as he waited...only to turn into a confused, furrowed browed frown when you tapped his nose. Whenever you called him cute, oh his expression was priceless.

Those previously furrowed brows moved up his face inquisitively, his eyes widening in such a way that appeared to be reminiscent of a puppy. For such a proud, stoic man, it sure was easy to mess with him.

Rolling his eyes he’d scowl, looking away from you until you climbed onto his lap and straddled him. Then, and only then would he give you that ridiculous pout expression..but even that faded whenever you smiled at him and closed the gap between the two of you with a kiss.

[ghostbustermelanieking]

for the askgame 6 with jm or 13 with wtgfs! (or vice versa. choose your own adventure)

this is pre canon, probably an au but maybe not -- who's to say?? mild warning for a reference to being buried alive (it isn't portrayed at all). also can be found on ao3 here

6. things you said under the stars and in the grass

It's dark out here. Melanie thinks that after three years of running a ghost hunting YouTube channel, she'd be a little more used to the dark, but she doesn't know if she'd ever be used to darkness like this: that rural sort of darkness that stretches on forever. 

The others are back in the van. Melanie might be back there, too, but Georgie had wanted to sleep outside, and, well, Melanie hadn't felt right leaving her alone out here. She knows Georgie best, after all, had been the one to suggest this collaboration. (Boost for What the Ghost, new fans for Ghost Hunt UK, and Melanie gets to spend a night hanging out with Georgie Barker. She isn't going to complain, even with the dark and the chill and the genuinely spooky feeling that comes from this field. There's a reason it's supposedly haunted, after all.) They've already done the bulk of filming and recording (Melanie even recited a few of Georgie's awful ad spots, which were impossible not to laugh at—she thinks she busted a rib trying); they've got a camera and Georgie's phone out here, in case anything noteworthy happens, but Melanie halfway doubts it. They haven't seen much of anything all night. 

Georgie's stretched out on her back on the sleeping bag, her face turned up to the sky. "The stars out here are insane, " she says quietly. "Look at that! You don't get a view like that in London."

Melanie stretches out on her back, too, and stares up at the sky. Georgie's right; there's about a million little yellow pinpricks on the dark sky above them. It's enough to take your breath away. (Well, Melanie thinks, resisting the urge to look over at Georgie— almost enough.) "That is pretty," she offers. "This'd be a good date spot, if it wasn't in a haunted field where three people were buried alive."

Georgie snorts, turns on her side to face Melanie, her head pillowed on her arm. "What—the dark intrigue of a haunted field, the feel of a shiver down your spine… that doesn't put you in the mood?" she says, in her Podcast Host Voice. 

Melanie grins, biting her lower lip to keep from cracking up. "Are you kidding me? No fucking way! This is a job, Barker. There's nothing less romantic than a job. Do you think anyone would bring a date to an accounting firm, o-or something like that?"

"You never know." Georgie grins too, presses her torch under her chin. " Stranger things have happened. "

Melanie does laugh this time. She rolls back over, turning her face back up towards the sky. "Not used to filming places like this," she says. "This rural, I mean. We usually stay in the more urban areas."

"I'm not used to doing this at all," says Georgie. "Well, I've done a couple, but… On-location recordings aren't exactly a podcasting speciality. 

"Let me tell you, you aren't really missing out," says Melanie. "I am so sick of sleeping on the floors of abandoned hospitals or whatever. The dust does not come out of your hair. I wish we had the budget to investigate a haunted inn once in a while, and sleep in a regular bed. Haunted BnB." She's mostly telling the truth, but she's also hamming it up a little, to try and get Georgie to laugh.

Georgie does laugh. "Haunted resort, if you're lucky?" 

"Exactly," Melanie says. 

"You YouTube people. Sounds like you get all the best date spots," says Georgie. "And here I'd think camping out under the stars is a big improvement."

"Not in a field where people were buried alive, Georgie!" 

"Oh, come on, it's no worse than any of your other sites," Georgie says. "I've seen the show. You guys go to some pretty awful places."

"Hmmph. Fair." Melanie crosses her arms over her chest and pretends she isn't grinning up at the stars. (She's ridiculous. She's absolutely nauseating—but, hey, if she's going to get like this about anybody…) "I guess there is one improvement," she adds, slyly. "Don't have to share the van with that lot. You've seen it, it's not a big van, we'd be packed in like sardines. And Pete snores like a freight train."

When Georgie speaks again, she's got a tone in her voice that Melanie actually recognizes; she can tell, without looking, that Georgie's got that sideways smile (the one that makes Melanie want to kiss her all over her face). "So… it's not all bad, being out here?" she says, an edge of teasing to her voice. 

"Nah," Melanie says. Her palms are clammy, like she's sixteen and on a first date again; for god's SAKE, she thinks. She stuffs her hands under her thighs and ignores it, turns her head to look at Georgie. "You're… you're good company, you know."

It's dark, so it's hard for Melanie to see, but she thinks Georgie might be smiling. Not the sideways smile—a different one. But she can't tell. She shifts towards Georgie, turning to look better at her, waiting to hear what she'll say. She thinks (haunted field or not) that she could stay here forever, lying out in this field, looking at Georgie. 

And then a sound cuts across the silence of the field, before either of them can say anything, that makes Melanie shoot up. There's a rustling, somewhere out in the field. Almost like the sound of footsteps, or something very small running through the grass. 

Melanie shudders, in that place between fear and excitement that usually means they're about to film a great scene. "Did you hear that?" she whispers, looking back towards Georgie. 

"Hear what?" Georgie whispers back, sitting up beside her. 

More rustling, the grass parting somewhere out there. Melanie fumbles for her torch and switches it on, shining it out over the field. " That! Something is out there," she says, turning sideways to grin at Georgie. 

Georgie scoots a little closer to Melanie's sleeping bag, their knees bumping together. "It's probably just a snake or something," she says. 

Melanie bumps her shoulder against Georgie's. "Skeptic." 

There's more rustling in the field, and then… something else, something almost resembling a voice. Whispering voices, somewhere close. 

"... Okay, maybe—maybe not," Georgie says softly. "D'you want me to get the camera?"

"I dunno, I don't… maybe this isn't…" The torch flickers in Melanie's hand. " Damn it," she hisses, smacking the torch with the flat of her palm. It flickers a few more times before going out completely, the light dying in something of a little gasp, and Melanie's breath catches in her throat. (She isn't scared, she tells herself. She's a professional, she's done this kind of thing a dozen times before. Beside her, she can feel the inhales and exhales of Georgie's breaths, Georgie's warm knee against hers.) 

"Old batteries?" says Georgie. Melanie can't tell if she's laughing or not. 

"That and every other horror cliché in the book," Melanie mutters. There's more rustling, further out in the field, in larger quantities; it sounds like it's coming from all around them. She smacks the torch a few more times in frustration. "You know what, yeah, maybe we should be film—"

There's a loud shriek, from somewhere in the field. High and loud and brief, and what Melanie might honestly describe as blood curdling. 

Melanie jumps. Jumps in a way that the host of a ghost hunting YouTube show absolutely should not jump, in a way that makes her sort of glad they aren't filming (because this would be a bad addition to the episode). She jumps and scrambles backwards, and crashes full-on into Georgie, limbs banging together, all elbows and knees and the warmth of Georgie against her. "Whoa!" Georgie says, and then her arms are around Melanie's shoulders, steadying her. 

" Jesus, " Melanie hisses, coming to herself all at once—realizing abruptly that she is hanging onto Georgie's shirt. She lifts her head and finds that they're nose to nose now, Georgie grinning a little with amusement, her dark eyes shining in the moonlight. Melanie swallows hard and says, "Wh-what was that?" but she doesn't move away. Neither of them let go. 

Georgie's grin grows wider, and she bumps her forehead gently against Melanie's, briefly before pulling back. "What do you think? " 

Melanie's mouth is dry. She can't look for the ghost, couldn't look away from Georgie if her life depended on it. "I… I thought you didn't believe in ghosts," she says weakly. (Georgie's host shtick does kind of have an air of disbelief to it. When you've been in the industry long enough, you can tell.) 

"Of course I do," says Georgie, and her voice is entirely sincere. "You really thought I didn't?"

Another shriek, louder this time, and Melanie jolts forward into Georgie, pressing into Georgie's side. Georgie laughs a little, tightens her arms around Melanie. Melanie thinks of suitable things to say— This is more intense than our usual shoots or I guess I'm a little on edge tonight —but all she can come up with is a not-really-threatening, "If you tell anyone about this…"

"Our secret," says Georgie. 

Melanie scoffs, resists the urge to lean her head on Georgie's shoulder. She's moved fully onto Georgie's sleeping bag by now—the grass is rustling, like the thing is walking away, but she can't bring herself to turn and look. Andy's going to kill her when he finds out she saw something, a definitive something, and didn't get it on camera. (Then again, when he hears the whole story, maybe he'll understand.)

She doesn't let go of Georgie. They're still nose to nose, legs tangled together, close enough to whisper. Close enough that Georgie can hear when Melanie murmurs, "Are you scared?"

"No," says Georgie, and Melanie knows she's telling the truth. "Are you?"

"No," says Melanie, just before she kisses her. 

Georgie lets out a little gasp, and Melanie's about to pull away when Georgie pulls her closer, one hand freezing on Melanie's cheek. Melanie smiles into Georgie's mouth, something like laughter bubbling up in her chest. She doesn't go far when she pulls back, rests her forehead against Georgie's again, and Georgie's hand moves from her cheek to her hair, her temple, her jaw, and she whispers, "Thank god. " And so Melanie kisses her again. 

(They sleep that night in Georgie's sleeping bag, crammed in together in a way that is absolutely not cramped or uncomfortable; it's just good . And the ghost doesn't come back. 

Or at least if it does, Melanie doesn't notice.) 

[lionheartkrbkzine]

Lionheart’s Interactive KiriBaku Twitter Thread

Pro Heroes, Bed-Sharing, Fake Dating, Quirk Accident

Rating: T (for swearing & canon-typical violence)

At the end of each Twitter update was an overnight poll where our followers got to decide the direction of the plot or details about story elements!

Feel free to reply with your thoughts, predictions, or desires, and Head Mod ET and Social Media Mod Belle will do our best to incorporate your ideas! This is a thank you and a way for us all to collaborate together until application responses are sent out on April 5th.

🧡❤️💥⚙️💥❤️🧡

Three buildings were on fire, and it wasn’t Bakugou’s fault.

Blackened smokestacks billowed above the Tokyo cityscape as he and Kirishima raced toward the scene. Bakugou took to the skies while his partner swerved between sedans and work trucks parked bumper-to-bumper on the roadway. Bakugou’s boots skid on the rough gravel of rooftops as he blasted from one to the next, his scorching propellant warping the air behind him, leaving trails of Schlieren lines in his wake.

He crouched on the edge of a four-story building above the battle, glimpses of a hero battle raging beneath the haze of ash and concrete dust. Heroes with water-based quirks tried and failed to mitigate the damage of six gangly beams of red-hot light.

“Riot, you got eyes?” he asked into his earpiece.

“Not directly on the prize, but I’m getting intel now! Are you seeing how the beams flicker in and out?”

“Yeah. Probably low level of quirk control or erratic mentality. Or both.”

“The team leader on the ground says the villain’s in a donut hole of concrete. Rubble’s piled up on all sides, so no one can get to him.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Amateurs.” The villain probably got himself cornered in a pit of fallen debris and figured he could wait it out or cause enough damage to try to make a run for it. “Shock Diamond, then.”

“Now?! Finally?! Hell yeah, let's go!"

Bakugou felt the heat of the lasers as one shaved the side of his building. He sneered at the heroes doing a piss-poor job of containment and checked behind him for the extent of the damage. A singed line gouged into the wall of a parking garage, but it stopped with a blunted tip before it speared the next building. The lasers didn’t seem to work like Aoyama’s — they could only extend so far.

Not made out of light, then. Kiri will be fine.

Not that he was worried about his partner. Kirishima could handle himself.

Even if Bakugou did pack the idiot a lunch every day and nudge him to go to bed when he fell asleep on the couch. And bought him cold medicine when he stayed out late walking Mirko’s seventy-eight-year-old receptionist home on dark, rainy nights. And bleached and dyed his roots when they started growing out.

But he wasn’t worried. The fact that the beams must be a form of slow-moving energy just gave them a tactical advantage. It had nothing to do with the fact that Kirishima’s hardening was more sensitive to concentrated light attacks yet the hero would bulldoze his way in front of them anyway.

The idiot’s voice rang through Bakugou’s earpiece. “Greenlight, Dynamight!”

“No matter how many times you say it, the rhyme doesn’t get any catchier.” Like a swimmer, he gripped the edge of the roof, rose halfway from his crouch, and dove into the pool of ash and smoke head-first. 

Catching the current mid-air, he soared closer to where Kirishima was probably charging into the fray. Bakugou used the familiar shock of red hair as his signal and dropped feet-first, sending down a counterblast to stick the landing. 

As Dynamight set himself up directly behind Red Riot, they charged the villain in a single-file line. 

Without missing a beat, Kirishima extended his arms behind him at the same time Bakugou pushed his chest into the other man’s back. Kirishima’s arms locked onto Bakugou’s sides.

Bakugou tucked his chin, extended his hands behind him, and sent out a blinding explosion.

They rocketed forward — an unbreakable wall and a ballistic force. The perfect offense and defense. Explosion and Hardening. 

Dynamight and Red Riot: Shock Diamond.

As they smashed through the rubble, the devastating strength of Red Riot’s quirk wracked through Bakugou’s body, but Kirishima held him tightly against his back. The shock waves cleared from Bakugou’s spine, and he jumped into the rapidly-clearing fog of smoke and dust.

His eyes widened. He whipped his head from side to side. He stopped, listened.

The pit was empty.

Meeting his partner’s eyes, Bakugou could only think of one thing to say. “What the fuck?!”

But Red Riot was similarly dumbfounded, his brows furrowed and jaw hanging slack, glancing around the center of the crater.

Bakugou kicked at a fallen pebble, its mere presence offensive in the heat of his frustration. 

“Dynamight! Red Riot!” An aged hero with a sky blue costume ran toward them, waving his arms in ridiculous circles and spraying arcs of water through the air. “Good work out there!”

“We didn’t do shit! We just busted through a wall!”

"What Bakugou means to say is 'thank you', sir!”

“Well, the guy’s a problem for tomorrow’s heroes now. I’ve sent a team to scout the perimeter, and the police have his mugshot and quirk info. Another group is putting out the last of the fires. We’re lucky it’s a weekend — no one in those office buildings meant no casualties.” The older hero jiggled and sloshed as he rested his hands on his service belt, the edges of his existence just barely see-through as his costume molded to his mutation quirk. “For now, we need you two to handle some of the media coverage while we start to get a section of road opened back up.”

“No problem! Leave it to us!”

Flubber strode off, his boots leaving wet footprints on the asphalt.

Bakugou turned to his partner. “No.”

"Hey— where are you going?! You can't just leave the press to me all the time!"

Huffing, Bakugou slipped through an unblocked alleyway, brushing concrete crumbs off his shoulders as he took deep breaths. Normally he would feel some semblance of guilt about leaving a crime scene or abandoning Kirishima to fend off the harpies on his own, but the villain did escape. Bakugou might as well join the search of the perimeter.

A sharp scream had his feet slapping the pavement before his brain caught up.

Rounding the corner of an office park, the street opened up to allow for a municipal park one block long and one wide. Amidst swing sets and jungle gyms stood a proud maple tree. In one of its branches clung a girl no more than six years old.

Below her, a group of parents huddled in a crescent moon around the trunk, some gawking, some enjoying the entertainment, and others consoling one woman in the center of it all. Bakugou made a beeline for her.

She jumped at the hulking form of a grenade-adorned hero. He never tried very hard to work on his public image.

“Oh, Dynamight.” The whites of the woman’s eyes gaped in surprise, and she looked back and forth between the imposing hero and the girl high up in the tree. “She just— She feels more secure when she’s up high, and she got scared by all the noise and the lights, so she climbed into the tree, but now she can’t get back down and she’s too high for me to reach her, and I can’t climb up—”

“Stop.” The woman snapped her teeth closed with a click. “I’ll get her down.”

She didn’t look especially reassured. Shit. What would Kirishima do? Probably flash a smile and bang his fists together or some other cute-ass Kirishima-ism. Bakugou gave her a closed-mouth smile and a stiff pat on the shoulder instead. That’ll do.

Grasping a branch with one hand and placing the flat of his boot on the trunk, he hoisted himself into the tree. He climbed higher and higher, wary of the thinning branches. When he couldn’t fit on the remaining limbs, he lifted his arms out for the girl.

“C’mon, I’ll take you back to your mom.” His voice was soft, low, and practiced. The girl eyed him warily, but after catching a glimpse of her mom below, shuffled into Bakugou’s hold. “Good job. Just hold on to me like you did to the branch, okay?”

She nodded against his shoulder, and he began his climb back down.

“What’s your name?”

“Matatabi,” she mumbled.

“What were you doin’ that high up?”

“Wanted to catch it.”

He frowned, wondering what it was, but they had reached the bottom and he had reached his patience quota for the day. Especially when the girl threw a fit in his arms, hissing and wiggling, and pushing and scratching at him. “Oi!” He dropped her, and she scurried to her mom, leaving him with whiplash and three welts on his bicep.

“Oh. Oh, dear.” The mother looked like she was about to confess to murder. Great. “Did she scratch you?”

No shit. “Yes, but it’s completely understandable.”

“Ah, awe, thank you—” at least he got a smile out of that one “—but, um, there may be a bit of an issue?” Of course there is. “She seems to activate her quirk when she scratches or bites.” She grimaced, floundering for her next words.

He took a deep breath. It wasn’t the kid’s fault. “It’s fine. What should I expect with the effects?”

“Um. Cat?”

He blinked. “Cat?”

She nodded. “Cat.”

“Dynamight!”

They both looked up then to Red Riot’s jogging figure, dust and cement billowing behind his ass cape. 

“Everything alri-oh.” Kirishima was staring somewhere above Bakugou’s forehead, his mouth formed in the perfect ‘O’ shape.

“What are you looking at?!”

“Ears.”

Bakugou’s stomach fell into his butt. “What?”

“Bro… ears. You have… ears.”

“No.”

“Dude they look so soft.” Slow hands lifted higher and higher, above Bakugou’s face up to the top of his head. “Can I just—”

Bakugou slapped his hands away. “Don’t you dare,” he hissed.

Kirishima chortled— chortled! — and turned to the mother of the tree climbing, cat nabbing daughter.

Bakugou watched the exchange with clenched fists.

“I’m so sorry!” She bowed low, almost tipping her kid onto the ground. “Is she in trouble?”

“No, no!” Kirishima smiled at them. They seeped into it like a warm blanket on a cold day. “We’ll just get your contact information in case we have any further questions about the quirk—”

A sharp pain stung both of Bakugou’s palms. He hissed and checked his hands, tuning out the rest of Kirishima’s mediation.

Claws. He had ears and claws.

Well, at least he had another weapon now — that was pretty cool, actually. As soon as the thought passed through his head, the claws retracted into his nail beds, leaving behind his normal, blunt nails.

He felt his ears droop to the side of his head.

“So… do you want to head back to the agency?”

He looked up at his partner, giving him his best baleful glare with the ears and all. Kirishima just snorted. “There’s no way in Hell I’m going back there like this.”

“Awe, but you could be our new office mascot.” He reached forward to pet Bakugou’s ear again. He was unsuccessful. “Alright, alright,” he laughed, pulling out his phone, “let’s call Mirko and get our next orders, then.” The ringer blasted loud and clear, Kirishima holding his phone in selfie-mode.

“You little shit! She doesn’t need to see!”

They played a game of impromptu tag until their boss picked up. She, of course, immediately burst into guffaws of laughter. 

Bakugou was so ready for today to be over.

“Hey, boss! What, uh— What do you suggest we do here with uh, Cat...kugou?”

“I’ll kill you,” he whispered.

“Hell if I know, I’ve never needed flea prevention.” Bakugou balked. “Take him to the vet, I guess!”

“Yessir!” Kirishima hung up before Bakugou could even process the words that just came out of his boss’s mouth.

“I am not—” he huffed “—going—” huff “—to the fucking VET!”

🧡❤️💥⚙️💥❤️🧡

If All Might himself had told Bakugou that hero life would involve sitting on a metal exam table in a veterinarian’s office, he wouldn’t believe a word of it. Not because it was impossible. Just because Bakugou would never get himself into that kind of situation.

He craned his neck back, glaring at his reflection in the operating mirror hanging from the ceiling. Two ash blond ears twitched back at him.

He sighed, crossing his arms and adjusting his seat on the hard metal. If I grow a tail, I’m gonna scream.

After what felt like hours of waiting, twitching, and reading pamphlets about “What to do if you have a fat cat,” the vet finally strode through the door, Kirishima hot on her heels.

She turned, frowning. “Oh, I’m so sorry — I know you’re hero partners, but technically the exam room is family only."

Bakugou’s eyes flicked to Kirishima. His partner met his desperate glare head-on.

[bookishbarnowl]

“I’m a person!”

The intimidation technique didn’t seem to phase the cocky teen. He smirked. “Techno, you gotta show me what’s wrong,” he goaded.

Break his leg, the AI suggested, but he blocked that out. He refused to play charades with the pint-sized terror.

In a post-apocalyptic world where the remaining survivors live in secure underground bases, Techno is a metal heart among dozens of warm, beating ones. That doesn't stop him from embracing his humanity, but it also means he has a few weaknesses others don't.

Warnings: Mild dehumanization (resolved)

Relationships: Technoblade & Tommy, Techno & Tommy & Wilbur

Word Count: 1,849

Ao3 Link: Here

Here’s a Wingdings translator if anyone wants to follow what Techno’s saying, but don’t feel like you need to, it’s not really plot relevant. Almost all of it is him threatening Tommy. :)

https://lingojam.com/WingdingsTranslator

Technoblade stormed down the hallway, mechanical limbs pounding against the floor of the bunker with resounding clangs as he stopped bothering to lighten his footsteps. Stealth was not a priority right now. He cranked up the volume on his voicebox, uncaring that no one could currently understand him. He was sick and tired of his Tommy’s ridiculous pranks, and changing his language settings while he was recharging was the last straw.

“❄︎□︎❍︎❍︎⍓︎!” he roared in his default android language, slamming doors open and shut as he searched. Other personnel quickly caught on to his current temper and promptly got out of his way, retreating to the parts of the base he’d already searched.

Yeah, faster, the broken AI jeered in the back of his head, spurring him on. He growled and tried to ignore it, but picked up the pace anyway. He was done.

He finally found Tommy and Wilbur in the latter’s bedroom, playing a video game together and bickering happily. He flung open the door with a bang and grabbed the remote, turning the TV off as they both yelled indignantly.

“✡︎□︎◆︎����︎♎︎ ♌︎♏︎⧫︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎ ♐︎♓︎⌧︎ ⧫︎♒︎♓︎⬧︎ ❒︎♓︎♑︎♒︎⧫︎ ■︎□︎⬥︎,” he snapped at Tommy, positively radiating anger.

The intimidation technique didn’t seem to phase the cocky teen. He smirked. “Aww, Techno, I can’t understand you. What exactly is the matter?”

“👍︎◆︎⧫︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♍︎❒︎♋︎◻︎📪︎ ♓︎⧫︎🕯︎⬧︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎ ♐︎◆︎■︎■︎⍓︎📬︎ ✋︎🕯︎❍︎ ♎︎□︎■︎♏︎.” he replied, his face darkening. He wasn’t going to negotiate.

“Techno, you gotta show me what’s wrong,” Tommy goaded.

Break his leg, the AI suggested, but he blocked it out.

“✋︎ ❒︎♏︎♐︎◆︎⬧︎♏︎📬︎ 🕈︎♏︎ ♌︎□︎⧫︎♒︎ 🙵■︎□︎⬥︎ ⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎🕯︎⬧︎ ⬥︎❒︎□︎■︎♑︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ♋︎❒︎♏︎ ♑︎□︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⬧︎⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♍︎♒︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ♌︎♋︎♍︎🙵 □︎❒︎ ⬧︎□︎ ♒︎♏︎●︎◻︎ ❍︎♏︎-” he broke off, gritting his teeth and distractedly registering the AI trying to convince him to commit a war crime. He crossed his arms, resentment and fury pooling in his stomach. He was not playing charades with the pint-sized terror.

Wilbur was looking back and forth between the two of them, observant enough to piece together the situation. He was also partially fluent in the android tongue, enough to probably pick up one or two keywords in Techno’s rapid-fire speech.

“⬧︎ ◻︎ ♏︎ ♏︎ ♍︎ ♒︎ ⬧︎ ⧫︎ ◆︎ ♍︎ 🙵,” Techno enunciated clearly in his direction, slow enough that he could pick it up, then switched back into his regular talking speed. “❄︎□︎❍︎❍︎⍓︎ ✋︎ ♋︎❍︎ ♎︎♏︎♋︎♎︎ ⬧︎♏︎❒︎♓︎□︎◆︎⬧︎📬︎ ❄︎♒︎♓︎⬧︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎ ♐︎◆︎■︎■︎⍓︎.”

“Voice… trapped? Stuck?” Wilbur translated. “And something about death? I heard the word Tommy…” He rounded on his brother. “What did you do to him?”

Tommy was trying hard not to laugh, which only made Techno feel worse. “It was just a prank,” he defended. “Isn’t it hilarious? Go on, try and say something else,” he prodded.

Techno didn’t move, mouth stubbornly shut. Some of his anger was eating away into humiliation, which he was sure was the worst emotion in existence. He quashed the feeling and tried to get back to being infuriated.

Oooh, someone’s embarrassed, the AI mocked. Scared, even? Ah, and there’s the helplessness.

Sometimes the voice cut deeper than it had any right to. Techno growled again, the sound rumbling menacingly through his entire body as he determinedly refused to dwell on those statements. He fixed Tommy with a glare that would have most people in the base quivering in fear, but he had the audacity to grin back at him.

“Techno, you’ve gotta ask me for help if you want it fixed,” he taunted, standing up with a hand on his hip as Wilbur looked torn. “The great Blade’s gotta admit he needs help.”

That was the tipping point for Techno.

“G̵͙͊ẽ̷̮t̵̜̽ ̶̬̆r̵͉͐i̸ḑ̴͂ ̶̧̂ō̷̜f̷ ̵̼͘t̷̑h̶̽is ̵͎̾n̸̠͑o̷̦͘w̸̠̃,” he snarled, brute forcing his way through the sloppily installed language blockers in sheer rage. His eyes flashed red and the claws stored in his finger joints slid out against his will, the voice in his head cackling as oily tears started leaking from his eye sockets.

Wilbur’s eyes widened and he jumped up, grabbing a screwdriver off of the desk and cautiously approaching the crying android. Tommy looked taken aback, his expression dissolving into something more sheepish.

“⚐︎ ■︎ ❍︎ ⍓︎ ♌︎ ♋︎ ♍︎ 🙵,” Techno instructed Wilbur carefully, directing him to the detachable panel on his lower back. He closed his eyes and tried to get a grip on his emotions, retracting his claws and silencing his snickering commentator.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Tommy sputtered, backpedaling.

“Then get over here and fix it,” Wilbur told him severely. The teen hung his head and came over to help Wilbur get the panel off, revealing the computer screen embedded into the metal there that Tommy had used to hack into Techno.

Techno shivered as he felt the two of them start going through the code looking for Tommy’s software, exceptionally conscious that they literally had his entire being at their fingertips. A few malicious clicks, and he could be altered in any number of ways.

Phil had tried to help him update the security on his data so things like that wouldn’t be possible, but his system seemed to vehemently reject any permanent alterations to his code and always did a system reboot afterwards to purge the new protections. He suspected the busted AI he shared a headspace with was behind it. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to care about short-term add-ons like the one Tommy had undoubtedly used.

He trusted both of them. He did, and no amount of pranks would change that. If he didn’t they wouldn’t be behind him right now, painstakingly removing the last traces of the language blocker. But sometimes they went too far. He felt used and taken advantage of. And that was not okay with him.

As soon as they got his back panel reattached, he left, ignoring their worried questions about if he was okay or not. He needed some time alone, and there was only one place no one would want to follow him.

He made his way to the airlock and grabbed a pack, slinging it over his shoulders and grabbing a blaster off the rack on the wall. Pulling a shield down over his face, he punched his code into the computer by the exit and signed himself out, then allowed the airlock to seal behind him.

The huge door slid open with a hiss in front of him, letting him out into the wasteland. The face shield protected him from the dust particles the inexhaustible wind dragged across every surface, and his metal body meant he didn’t have to deal with an oxygen tank or protective suit like the rest of the residents in the base. He scanned the area around the base with a keen eye, clipped his blaster to his hip, and set off into the desert.

He didn’t go far, barely beyond the next hill, but it was enough to make him feel like he was the only one in the world, which was what he wanted.

Lonely, lonely, lonely, the AI chanted in his head, and he pushed it away. Solitude helped him think.

But his peace didn’t last very long. The sound of clumsy footsteps stumbling through the dirt reached his ears, and he bowed his head and internally groaned. Someone had come after him, and it sure didn’t sound like Phil. A few more seconds of waiting would tell him which of the two less tolerable options he’d gotten. He considered running farther away, certain he could outdistance whichever it was, but if it was Tommy he’d just doggedly follow. And Wilbur would feel hurt. So he stayed put.

Leave him behind, the voice commanded. Shut up, he told it.

Sure enough, a moment later Tommy all but tripped over the crest of the hill and joined him at the bottom with a little help from gravity, breathing hard through the oxygen mask and making a vain attempt to brush the sheen of sweat off a brow covered by his helmet.

“These suits are so awkward to walk in,” he started, voice coming through the speakers in the aforementioned suit with a slightly tinny distortion. It was obviously an attempt to break the ice, though a pretty terrible one since Techno had no need for the bulky garments. He took the bait anyway, might as well get this over with.

“You were still pigheaded enough to come after me in one,” he replied.

“Well, uh, Wilbur put me up to it, y’know, and Big Man TommyInnit’s never one to back down from a challenge, eh?”

“Did you at least sign out a firearm before you left?”

“Nah. Who’s gonna mess with these guns?” he cracked, flexing non-existent arm muscles. Not that you could tell through the suit. The thick fabric made even someone like Phil, one of their best scouts, look like they’d rolled in marshmallows. The corner of Techno’s lip twitched in spite of himself.

Heh, Lonely Man thinks the Stupid Child is funny- He shoved it back again. Get some more creative insults, he thought.

“If you get jumped by a monster I will laugh at your corpse,” he warned.

“You wouldn’t, you love me too much,” Tommy sniggered, punching his shoulder.

“You’re right, I do,” he responded, unexpectedly serious.

The change in mood was not lost on Tommy, and his laugh quieted. “I love you too, man,” he returned. “I’m, um, really sorry about earlier. That was too far.”

“It was,” Techno agreed noncommittally.

“I shouldn’t mess with your code.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I’m not going to stop playing pranks on you.”

He sighed. “I knew my expectations were too high.”

“But I won’t hack you again.”

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the apology. “Messin' with living code is a serious invasion of privacy.”

“Yeah,” Tommy whispered, guilt heavy on his tone. “But I wouldn’t hurt you, you know that right?”

“Of course I do,” he reassured him. He was rarely the one to initiate physical contact, but this time he made an exception, leaning over for a one-armed hug. Tommy leaned into him, but his personality wouldn’t let the silence continue for long.

“So whaddya say we go back and make Wilbur wish he’d never sent me out to reunite the dream duo?” he blurted, grin wide and looking like it had never left.

Techno didn’t bother hiding the upward quirk of his lip this time. “Let’s go beat up a nerd.”

[captainneverever]

Snow Day

written for @lightsonparkave's Prompt Challenge Round 6 -- Love

The Avengers think that Steve and Tony got engaged at the annual holiday party. It’s news to Steve and Tony. (light 616, 1900 words)

Tony rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, vaguely aware of the Avengers alarm going off. Usually he’d be off like a shot heading for the armor, Steve’s voice in his ear relaying mission information. Instead, he saw Steve standing shirtless in his workout pants, coffee mug in one hand, watching the snow dance outside the Tower windows.

“Um, Steve, there’s a mission --”

Steve sipped his coffee and watched the snow. “We’ve been benched.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t that your call?”

“Not today. Carol called it.”

Tony couldn’t recall a single thing that occurred during the annual Avengers holiday party that would have resulted in them being benched. Food was excellent. He drank seltzer and lemon all night and Steve his craft beers. The Cards Against Humanity game hadn’t resulted in blood-letting. No one had stupidly challenged Thor or Carol to arm-wrestling. No one had complained about the silly, the serious or the thoughtless presents. 

He glanced over at the small black box with the arty cufflinks Steve had given for him on the nightstand. Steve had commissioned the artist sometime last year to craft “space geode” cufflinks. The gift stemmed from a long-standing private joke that would be impossible to explain to anyone else. He grinned, thinking of how Steve said “space geode.” 

It all went off the rails when Steve had given him the box in the kitchen when it was just them alone instead of during the group present opening. Jan had walked in on Tony enthusiastically kissing Steve and then jumped right out with profuse apologies.

Now that he wasn’t on call, Tony snuggled deeper into the sheets and blankets and blatantly ogled the lovely ass sight in front of him.

He asked, “Why? As far as I can tell, you and I still have all our limbs attached, no concussions, no body swapping …. Unless there’s a surprise you’re about to spring on me. Like a visit from our clones or something.”

“Team thinks we got engaged last night so we’ve got the day off.”

Tony could hear the touch of amusement in Steve’s voice and wondered if Steve had put up much of a fight about being benched. Probably he did; he didn’t take benching well, even for a good cause.

Then it sank in what Steve had said. “What?! Wait -- did Jan think --”

“It wasn’t just Jan. Clint overheard us talking about big news before the party.”

“The new quinjet redesign?”

Steve set down his coffee mug and joined Tony on the bed. He swung his legs up, and rolled onto his stomach, and smiled at Tony. He kissed Tony’s bicep. “Only you and T’Challa would consider that big news.”

“The team will love the more comfortable seats are bigger galley,” Tony grumbled. “So, the whole team thinks that you and I are getting married.”

“Jess asked if we’d set a date yet.”

“July, of course. Best weather in the Hamptons,” Tony replied automatically. “Hard to get hotel rooms, and we’d have to book the venue a couple of years ahead of time. It’d be worth it.”

Steve booped Tony’s nose and chuckled. “That’s the official date -- we’ll have already gotten married in private a few months earlier. City Clerk’s office.”

“That’s just complicated and unnecessary.”

“So are supervillain attacks and alien invasions. Have we gone to a single superhero wedding that didn’t get interrupted?”

Tony had no answer. He couldn’t think of one, and he’d gone to his share of the events. Sue and Reed couldn’t even have a baby shower without a supervillain attack.

Steve concluded, “If we’re already married, then all Zemo or Kang or Ultron would be breaking up would be a party.”

“Or the Controller or whoever is in charge of AIM these days or -- let’s be real, there’s at least fifty guys and gals that would go a long long way to bust up our big day.” Tony drummed his fingers on the bed. “Wait -- why did they jump straight to us getting engaged? Why not moving in together? I could have given you a box with a key to my suitet.”

Steve collapsed on the bed, his body shaking from laughing. Tony swatted at him as Steve shifted away from him and wiped tears from his eyes. 

“What’s so funny, big guy?”

“The team and reserve Avengers thought we’ve been living together for the past year. I was informed of this fact this morning.”

“Oh, wow. How could we have missed that?” 

Steve looked thoughtful. “I do spend most nights here already.” He poked Tony in a ticklish spot. “If I moved in officially, I’ll need some closet space, more than the two drawers I’m using --”

“I’ll build you your own closet. I can draw the plans up right after breakfast. I’m going to design you a closet that’s going to be on the cover of Architectural Digest.”

Steve wriggled back under the covers and the sheets, and propped his arm up on the pillows. “Are you asking me to move in?”

“Do you want to move in?” Tony replied. His breath hitched and pulse beat faster as that old fear that Steve would bail on him reared its ugly head. A lifetime full of disappointments and Steve’s workaholic tendencies had taught him to be wary.

But he’d give his eyeteeth to have more of Steve.

Steve fiddled with the blanket and looked at a spot at the end of the large bed. “I always imagined you’d ask in a more romantic way. Involving a dinner.”

Tony’s heart flipped. “You’re one of the most unromantic people I have ever met. We can order takeout and eat while we make space for you and your toothbrush in the bathroom.”

Steve slid an arm around Tony’s waist to draw him close. “Home is where I hang my shield. A nail in the wall, a nightstand, and one side of the closet, and we’re all set.”

“Ha,” Tony snorted. “Do you think we could get all that done before the team returns?”

He grinned as he watched Steve analyze and calculate the team’s chances. He adored Steve’s brilliant tactical mind, the little half-smile he always had on his face as he considered and weighed strategies. Just part of Steve’s charms. 

“The main factor is whether or not the Wrecking Crew are having a magically juiced-up week. Weather forecast has more snow. Team is worse for wear because of the party. Odds are that they’ll be out for a couple of hours minimum.  

“Well, now that we know it’s the Wrecking Crew --”

“I didn’t want to leave the Tower to fight the Wrecking Crew,” Steve confessed.

“Instead you settled for moving in with me? Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” 

Stevet tugged him closer, letting Tony tuck his head into his shoulder. The idea of waking up to this every single morning warmed Tony from head to toe. Something they could build a life around.

“Now that we’re living together, when are you going to make me an honest man?” Steve teased.

“Wow, we haven’t even hung up your medals and had a fight over your hideous chair --”

“Team thinks we’re engaged already. We can’t undermine their trust in us.”

“You just don’t want them to know that you didn’t tell them the truth that you didn’t want to fight the Wrecking Crew in a blizzard.”

Smiling, Steve ran his fingers through Tony’s hair. “They saved me from planning the proposal.”

Tony pulled away to stare at Steve. “Wait. Slow down. You just talked me in letting you move in --”

“A formality -- I have clothes and uniforms here, my pile of books are next to my side of the bed, I was just asking for more closet space.”

“Right. Back to that proposal thing. What?”

Steve sat up a little straighter so Tony could curl into his side. They could see the snow coming down in thick white flakes, the sort of snow that promised many inches, school closures and miserable fighting conditions. The Avengers had been more than generous to let the newly engaged couple sleep in. 

“I bought more than the cufflinks at the jeweler’s. Just waiting for the right occasion. I made reservations at L’Artusi for Valentine’s -- was working on other ideas, like flowers, that sort of thing.”

“Steve,” Tony exhaled with all the love he felt for Steve. A Valentine’s Day restaurant date was a big, fussy ordeal -- with a planned proposal thrown into the mix -- and Unromantic Steve was planning to do it all for him. A big risk, given all the space wars they’d been in recently.

“We’ve talked about it, getting married.” Tony nodded in agreement, and Steve continued. “I picked up the ring and all I could think about was when I could ask you. I almost asked last week at breakfast when you were fixing the coffee machine.”

The thought of wearing Steve’s ring took Tony’s breath away. Steve had always wanted to be married, though Tony had a healthy fear of marriage, considering his parents and the strong likelihood he’d wake up and find that he’d married sentient armor or a Skrull. It could happen -- he’d lay good money that it would. Tony’s luck ran on the rotten side.

But here was Steve, right next to him on a snowy morning in New York, and he was going to Officially Move In today. He’d loved Steve forever, since Steve opened his eyes in that sub a few years ago. He couldn’t possibly name anyone he’d want to marry more than his Avengers co-leader -- they had saved each other’s lives too many times to count, they finished each other’s sentences, he could practically read Steve’s mind by now. 

No wonder the team thought that Steve had proposed last night. They should have been married years ago. They should have gotten married the afternoon Tony found him. It was ridiculous the amount of time they hadn’t been married. 

“Since you’re asking, yeah, I’ll marry you.”

Steve kissed the top of his head. “How about next week?”

“Next week?”

“City Clerk’s Office.”

“I take back what I said about you being unromantic. You’re such a true romantic, through and through.”

“We could get married Tuesday at the City Clerk’s office -- we get a license on Monday and there’s a 24-hour waiting period.”

“Tuesday? Hmmm -- I probably have something scheduled that day.”

“You’re free, I already checked your schedule.”

“You planned this,” Tony accused Steve. 

Steve put his arm around Tony and hugged him. “No, that’s giving me too much credit. I researched possibilities, in case they came up. Be prepared.”

“I couldn’t possibly love you more than I love you now.”

“You will when the Masters of Evil crash that fancy wedding the wedding planner put together and we have to drop everything to arrest them. And we’ll be married during the whole fight.”

“Our secret.”

“Just us.”

The wind picked up outside and the snow fell harder. “I should feel bad about the team out there in the snow,” Tony admitted.

“It’s their gift to us,” Steve replied. “An early wedding present --”

“For the men who have everything,” Tony finished. 

“Yeah.”

Tony tapped the bed thoughtfully. “I have some favors to cash in for the honeymoon, in that case.”

“I’d like to go to Europe,” Steve offered. “It’d be nice to visit on our own, not as Avengers.”

“I have ideas already -- you won’t regret it. We’re still going to L’Artusi for Valentine’s, right?”

“You bet.”

[sephirothisaslut]

Imaginary Friend

Sephiroth was never a normal child.

In fact, you could say he never was a child.

He was never allowed to be a child. 

Hojo made him to be the perfect son. The perfect puppet. The perfect soldier. The perfect General. Ever flawless, never faltering.

So it came as a surprise when he’s developed an imaginary friend. To say Hojo was perplexed was an understatement. He was livid. Sephiroth had not been exposed to any form of fictional works, nor the concept of an imaginary friend (or what a friend even is).

The mad scientist purged his employees. All nurses, doctors, assistants, and even janitorial and guard staff were interrogated. It wont do for a God to have something as childish as an imaginary friend. He fired those that have shown any unnecessary kindness to Sephiroth, and ‘fired’ those that have records of actively trying to treat him like a normal child. (As if a God would need to be treated like a lowly common child)

It all started with a question.

“Doctor, is he the new guard?” Sephiroth asked from behind Hojo.

Hojo had vaguely remember asking for additional security. With Lucrecia’s previous fling nearly killing him, and Gast’s near successful defection, he thought it was necessary. However when he turned to look, he could see no one.

“Boy, are you trying to purposefully fool me?” Hojo said with malignant eyes. His icy tone alone made Sephiroth writhe in panic. 

Sephiroth started to hyperventilate. What had he done wrong? Was he not supposed to ask questions? He wasn’t trying to fool Hojo. Then why.

Hojo slowly approached. A large glowing syringe in one hand. The other, tightening the bands holding Sephiroth down on the cold, steel table.

“Do not” Hojo stabbed the syringe into Sephiroth, purposefully hurting the boy, “do that” he began injecting the liquid, making Sephiroth thrash in pain “ever again”

Sephiroth started screaming. Whatever the good doctor had done to him hurt. Everything Hojo did to him always hurt. But this hurt much more so. His limbs tries to thrash, but the straps that held him were built for not so human patients. Every cell in his body cried and called out. He could feel tears starting to form. He tried clenching his eyes shut, preventing the tears from fully forming (preventing him from showing weakness). But it wasn't long until a second, more powerful wave of pain and hurt consumed him.

Sephiroth’s eyes darted around. trying to anchor himself on consciousness. He looked around, once more spotting the man. For some reason Hojo can’t see him. He tried focusing in the man. Trying to distract himself from the burning sensation coming from his blood.

Then he blacked out. 

The next time he woke up, he was back in his room. Sephiroth knew ‘cell’ was more accurate than ‘room’. One of the former caretakers he had when he was younger described their child’s room. It all sounded unnecessary. The frilly curtains, and bright colors. The toys that serve no purpose but to entertain. It all seemed useless. It all sounded foreign. it all sounded incredible.

He wanted to be normal. He wanted to be unnecessary. He wanted to just be. But Hojo told him not to. 

He sat up, breaking away from his dark thoughts. Then he noticed the same man in the corner of his room. Just leaning casually, hands crossed, observing Sephiroth.

Sephiroth is smart. He knew that the reason today’s test had hurt so much was because he mentioned the man to Hojo. And for some reason, Hojo cant see the man. He also knew that his room is bugged. A camera in the corner. Constantly watching Sephiroth. Collecting data of his behavior to be studied like a corpse laid out for dissection. So he opted to go to the desk, and pretended to take notes on a Tactics book. Making his movements obvious. Leaning to one side to clearly show what he’s writing to the man, but hiding it from the camera.

‘Why can’t Hojo see you?’ He writes. His plan wasn’t well thought. Sure, the camera’s can’t see what he’s doing, but it doesn't guarantee the man will read what he’s writing.

“Because I’m not really here”

Sephiroth blinked, stunned. It worked.

‘What do you mean?’

“My physical body...It’s not really here”

‘Where is it?’

“I don’t know”

This man is an enigma. He can hear the man behind him. If the man can be seen by the cameras, then guards would have swarmed in to apprehend him already.

‘What are you’ Sephiroth scrawls. Is he the ‘ghosts’ that he’s heard some of the technicians talk about?

“I’m no one”

Sephiroth huffs. He’s even more curious now. ‘You’re not no one. I can see you’

“How sure are you? I’m sure you’ve noticed, you’re the only one that can see me”

Sephiroth pauses. He’s read about hallucinations before. But they only occur in times of extreme stress. And the first time he’s seen the man, it was before the testing not during. And right now, he’s in a space he feels most comfortable in. He shakes his head, resolving to drop the subject.

‘What’s your name?’ 

“Cloud...Call me Cloud” The man, Cloud, decides. He moves to lean beside Sephiroth’s desk, putting himself in clear view of the child.

Sephiroth discreetly looked up at the man. Cloud’s most notable appearance is his ridiculous blond hair. Spiking around as if defying gravity. That was before Sephiroth noticed his eyes, It was blue, glowing, and it was slited. 

Just like me

“Kid, it’s rude to stare” Cloud snorted.

‘Sorry’

“You should rest. I saw what Hojo did. And he’s preparing a new batch tomorrow” Cloud gently instructed the child.

Sephiroth, finally realizing his own fatigue, nodded. And promptly carried himself to bed. He can figure the man out another time.

The next day, Sephiroth woke to the man sitting at his bedside. Looking down as if lost in thought. Sephiroth only nudged his foot discreetly to tell the man to move out of the way.

“Oh you’re awake” Cloud moved out of the way.

Sephiroth sat up, and checked the clock. 5:00 am, it read. He had enough time to prepare for Hojo’s next test.

He stood up and slowly peeled his clothes off.

Cloud cleared his throat, “What’re you doing?”

Sephiroth only turned to him and mouthed ‘Hojo’.

“Ah”

It wasn’t long after Sephiroth had completely dressed in his gown, that Hojo himself came busting into his room.

“Get dressed, we’re taking another-” The mad man paused. “I see you’ve already prepared”

“Yes, doctor” Sephiroth replied meekly.

“And how do you possibly know about today’s test. I haven’t informed you, nor my staff.” Hojo narrowed his eyes.

Sephiroth’s body stiffened. It was the man that had told him. How does the man know? What does he tell Hojo?

“Tell him the truth” Cloud said from beside him.

Sephiroth only briefly glanced at him in shock.

“Do not test me boy.” Hojo snapped.

In the heat of his panic, Sephiroth blurted out the first answer he could formulate.

“It was Cloud sir”

“Cloud? Don’t lie to me, there are no staff here called Cloud” 

“Tell him I’m your imaginary friend.” Cloud suggested.

Sephiroth only glanced at him, this time thinking ‘Are you crazy?’

“Well?!” Hojo’s voice snapped him back to reality.

“He’s my...imaginary friend...sir” Sephiroth’s voice flatered at the end. it all sounds so wrong. But it’s the best he’s got.

The doctor said nothing. Only narrowing his eyes, then sharply turning away. Gesturing for the boy to follow him.

That day, the battery of tests made Sephiroth hurt so much, he was incapacitated for a full week.

-----------------------------------------------------------

 “You Ok?” Cloud asked, running his hand through the now teenage Sephiroth.

They continued their entire spiel of discreetly communicating. After what Hojo did to Sephiroth that day, they’ve decided to show little sign of Cloud’s existence. 

However, there have been a few slip ups in the past years. Just like what happened that day, Cloud had informed Sephiroth of a scheduled test that Hojo hadn’t told anyone about. Sephiroth soon found himself in the mercy of a mutated Zolom soon after. Then when Sephiroth was writhing in pain on another metal table, he had accidentally called Cloud’s name. Begging for help. Hojo merely increased the dosage.

But after trial and error, they’ve managed to find out a system. It also helped that Cloud knew Morse code, and taught Sephiroth. This way, Sephiroth can communicate in taps, or blinking. Of course, it helped that the staff didn’t know Sephiroth knew Morse code, or even can understand it at all. (They’re scientists, not soilders)

‘Yes’ Sephiroth tapped.

“Good” Cloud sighed, then paused. He looked up at the ceiling, looking troubled.

‘Are you dying?’

He gazed up at Cloud. In all the years that his Imaginary friend has been with him, Cloud has never aged. Never changed. Of course, he’s never had any other imaginary friend, nor had he met anybody who had one. But it is to his understanding that they usually disappear after a certain age. And yet here Cloud is. The only constant in Sephiroth’s life aside from Hojo and the pain he brings.

However he’s noticed Cloud has been disappearing more frequently now. Sometimes fading, or growing transparent.

“So you’ve noticed” Cloud said sadly. He wasn’t dying per se. More like flickering. Disappearing. Dissolving. Leaving Sephiroth to fend Hojo on his own.

‘Don’t go’ Sephiroth tapped lightly. Afraid of what might happen. Cloud told him many things. From what it felt like to ride a chocobo, to how a motorcycle engine works, to the true nature of his birth. He told him about Lucrecia and a Turk named Vincent Valentine. How Hojo back stabbed them. How he killed Professor Gast (Sephiroth liked Professor Gast, he thought he’d merely been moved to another lab), and about Jenova. About what she really is. Sephiroth trusted Cloud, and believed everything he said

At first Sephiroth thought himself a monster. But after Cloud’s constant reassurances, he’d slowly accepted that he’s as human as anybody else.

“Sephiroth, I can’t stay for much longer” Cloud whispered, “Hojo’s gonna present you to the president soon. And I can’t follow you to Midgar”

‘What’ Sephiroth clenched his fist after asking.

“I can’t.” Cloud sounded pained, “I-...”

They stayed in silence. Inside Sephiroth’s room, full of grey steel. The quiet as thick as blood.

“It’s tonight” Cloud finally said.

“Please don’t leave me” Sephiroth whispered. The cameras be damned. He can’t. His friend is leaving him and-

“Sephiroth” Cloud gently apologized. “Remember everything that I’ve taught you, yeah?”

“...Please don’t. Stay. Please”

Cloud sighed, “I’ll stay as long as I can”

That night, Sephiroth cried. Unhibited, uncaring of the repercussions. Uncaring of what Hojo might do if he saw the tapes. All so he can mourn his friend properly.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Wutai war was finally finished. The streets of Midgar was filled with SOLDIERS and Infantrymen reuniting with their families, friends, and loved ones. The streets of Loveless avenue was full of hugging, kissing, and over all joy. It was practically a holiday. A festival.

Genesis had left with Angeal on a trip to a showing of Loveless. Leaving Sephiroth alone for his  homecoming. His friends asked him to join, but he politely declined. He’d much rather stay home than be carted around as a third wheel on their date.

So here he is, The Hero of Wutai. Alone on a joyous evening. He looked down on the streets. Quietly observing the goings on. He once wished for someone to return to. But the only person he’s ever remotely had was long gone.

He’s not even sure he existed.

Just then, his PHS started ringing.

“General sir?” An uncertain voice from the other side asked. It must have been the guards stationed in the lobby.

“Speak” Sephiroth only answered. Mildly annoyed.

“S-Sir, there’s a visitor for you.”

Sephiroth stayed silent. It’s most likely someone from his ridiculous fan club.

“Sir?”

“Where are they from” Sephiroth said coldly. He is not in the mood for dealing with crazed civilians tonight.

“Says h-he’s from Science sir!” The man answered sharply.

“Identification” Sephiroth asked. The only thing worse than a rabid fan, is one of Hojo’s men. 

He can hear the phone being passed to, presumably, the visitor. He had expected an update on a checkup, however the voice on the other end made Sephiroth stiffen.

“Sephiroth...It’s Cloud”

[periminkle]

Orphic | 02

After moving into your own place, it seems life is finally going your way; the path to independence leading you to a quaint suburban town where even the grass seems to grow a little greener. Although a shocking encounter leads you to believe that perhaps appearances can be quite deceiving.

pairing: hybrid!jk x reader (first person)

genre: hybrid au, angst, fluff

word count: 7.0k

rating: PG-15

warnings: animal cruelty, death, blood, swearing

author’s note: I cut this chapter into two parts bc it was turning into a monster :((( i did try to research DNA and genes and all that fancy stuff but it was too much for my small brain, so beware of inaccurate facts!!! also wanted to say that my heart hurt writing this </3

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The light breeze fluttering through the back door enveloped the bare skin of my legs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. 

I couldn’t recall the last time I lounged around the house in the morning—not flurrying around like a chicken with its head cut off, in a rush to catch the bus. If it wasn’t work then it was grocery shopping, borrowing articles and studies from the library or filling my car’s empty gas. 

Consequently, I refused to change out of the oversized sweater and the lousy pair of bright yellow shorts that currently adorned my laden figure. With any luck, the comfort from the soft articles of cloth would somehow seep into my mental state as well.

Yet the optimistic notion wasn’t proving its validity thus far, becoming a more of a burden due to the lack of a proper barrier between my humble abode and the wilderness outside. 

For the most part, the structure of the door was left unharmed but the handle containing the lock that had been smashed into was another matter completely. Upon further examination, accompanied by an hour of fiddling around with the busted latch, it seemed to be a problem beyond my capabilities. I reluctantly admitted defeat and ordered a replacement. 

With nothing to secure the door to the adjacent wall, it remained slightly ajar.

Another hour whizzed by, scouring through the limited resources at my disposal to—at the very least—find a temporary fix. I tried taping it shut, propping a chair, a step stool and a table up against the remainder of the handle to no avail. 

A stroke of genius hit when I stuck a command hook on the wall nearby, fastening a broken hairband from the latch to the hook. However, the placement of the hook was a little too close and the hairband a little too loose to keep the occasional draft from finding its way inside. My fluffy pokémon shorts provided meager defence at best, but I could hardly spare a thought to the lower temperature when my mind was fully occupied with more urgent matters.

After the run-in yesterday night, I remained by the fridge, shaken from the events that had transpired for longer than I’d like to admit. I was unsure if the familiar sylvan scent that lingered was a result of the stranger or simply a waft from the forest, which wasn’t unlikely, considering my defective door.

Once I’d finally gotten a hold of myself, I dialled the police, doubting that my shaky limbs could safely carry me to the nearest station at such an hour. Other than an aching wrist and some medical supplies that could be restocked, my physical well-being and that of my house were surprisingly fine. 

Excluding my poor back door, of course.

I was rather fortunate that the robbery, if stealing bandages could even be labelled as such, was more mentally taxing than anything. The drops of blood were rather annoying to clean off my tiles too, I guess.

Trying to get any rest that night was fruitless, tossing and turning, worried that the man might return for something more valuable or another fiend finding his way inside to do worse. 

It struck me as more than a little odd that he would come to my tiny cottage, of all places, for first aid supplies. If he wasn’t looking for some extra coins to pocket, why wouldn’t he go to the hospital? Where had he gotten a wound that couldn’t be treated by a doctor? Maybe he had partaken in various illegal activities that couldn’t warrant the suspicion of a governmental figure? Ugh, my brain hurt the more I thought about it.

Along with my raging thoughts, the perpetual feeling of being watched disturbed my slumber as well. It was if another set of eyes were locked on my vulnerable form, peering past the closed blinds and under the protective layers of blankets I’d piled on. No matter how many times I peeked into the darkness though, I was only met with the sight of my backyard enshrouded in the night sky. 

When the rays of dawn broke through the tenebrosity, I abandoned any notion of sleep and hesitantly called Jin, unsure if the busy man was even conscious yet. His bright and cheery voice quelled my worries and I informed him of what had transpired within the past twelve hours. Relief flooded my lethargic frame as he delved into a crazed panic, which I greatly appreciated, accepting his offer to take a day off.

Jin was excessively sympathetic and compassionate, reminding me of a mother goose with how he squabbled over staying somewhere else for the time being and taking a week-long break. But I didn’t want to be a burden on any of my new friends and going back to the city wasn’t an option at this point. Reflecting on the matter for more than day wasn’t necessary either.

I haughtily believed that the criminal didn’t deserve any more free real estate in my mind than he’d already occupied.

In order to comprehend the situation, as well as the fact that I would be utterly useless if I went to work with my mind engrossed in other matters, I thought one day to digest everything and get it out of my system would suffice. Though I knew it would come more so with time, I also had to work on regaining an impression of security within my own walls. 

To take a rest from my turbulent concerns, I made a trip to one of the populated parks within the small town, figuring that I would feel more safety in the numbers that would surround me. Ridiculously, I found myself stumped when I got there, drowning in my own vulnerability, so I promptly headed back.

At nightfall, I skipped out on meeting with the cat yet again. Evidently, I lacked the mental capability to tend to my own needs the day before, never mind another being, thus I didn’t visit the little guy. I felt a wash of regret and worry that I hadn’t even set out some food. As a result of yesterday’s blunder, I put a heaping mass of tuna on the porch this time, hoping the animal would understand my apology. 

The hours flew by as I sat there, stirring in my own solitude. In order to bring the negativity of the day to an end, I invited the trio I’d gotten close to as of recent, although Jin adamantly refused due to his papers that, “wouldn’t write themselves.”

I took the steaming pot of ramen off the stovetop right as the clear ring of the doorbell resounded throughout the cramped place. Hastily, I placed the noodles onto the table with careful hands, grimacing as I realized it took up a bit more than a quarter of the surface.

With a brisk shuffle, I pulled open my front door to the sight of a disgruntled Yoongi, hidden behind the towering stature of a rosy-nosed Namjoon. I barely made out the mutterings of, “it’s freezing out here,” and “took you long enough,” before I was being shoved aside.

As they trudged over to the kitchen, following the scent of freshly cooked ramen wafting around the house, Yoongi scoffed at my tiny table. Since I only purchased two chairs for the space, I cracked open the step stool to act as another seat. I honestly wasn’t sure what I would have done if Jin had tagged along too. Maybe pulled out the ladder too?

The shorter man grabbed the handles of the pot, heading over to the direction of the living room as Namjoon and I trailed after him like baby ducks. “If we’re going to eat like poor college students then we might as well keep up the act and sit on the floor.”

Although Yoongi’s cold and distant facade perplexed me as I was getting to know him, eventually I picked up on the hints of affection he’d drop every once in a while. Mostly, I found that I was able to burn time fooling around with Taemin as he completed enough drudgery for the both of us or a piping hot mug of hot chocolate would be waiting for me in the break room after long hours. 

Even now, though he acted irritated, I knew Yoongi well enough to decipher his true intentions: that he was trying to be considerate of my humble living conditions and opted to play it off as a joke. At this point, I was even inclined to believe he harboured a soft spot for me.

In response, I pretended to be peeved by his actions as I ambled back to gather the bowls and utensils I placed at the table, carrying them to the spot we’d occupied on the floor. It was difficult to hide the growing smile on my face.

Once I’d gotten a few drinks down my throat, I finally felt the tense muscles between my brows and shoulder blades relax, forgetting about the worries that echoed in my head all day.

The TV screen flashed with the intense scenes of an action movie that Namjoon had picked out. I was only half paying attention to the redundant plot line, more interested in the outrageous story spewing from Namjoon’s lips.

“-and now he’s bragging about how one of his puns got milk spilling out of Yoongi’s nose!”

The tipsy state I was in got me laughing harder than I should have, but with both men around me in a relatively similar state of mind, no one seemed to care.

“That’s literal bullshit, Eunmi told me that I was drinking the milk meant for Taemin right when Jin finished telling his dumb joke,” Yoongi complained despite the gummy smile stretching across his features.

I clutched my chest at the mention of one of the creatures who had stolen my heart, “aw, my pretty little Taem, I miss him so much and it’s only been one day!” 

“You’re getting too attached to him Y/N, you know that he’s not gonna stay at the lab forever,” Namjoon lightly warned. I knew he was concerned for my emotional welfare, but even the mention of Taemin being taken away got me stewing in my own misery.

“Joon, why would you say—I don’t even want to think about that!” My inebriated state obviously enjoyed to spill more information than necessary when I stated, “I need to cuddle Taemin enough for the both of them.”

“Both?” The younger man spared a questioning glance at his companion in before turning back to me, “do you have a cat?” The two of them began scoping out the area, trying to locate the nonexistent bundle of fur.

“Oh no, no, I wish I could afford a pet but I think taking care of myself is challenging enough for now.” At their probing eyes, I continued, “I was just talking about a little kitty that visits me every night in my backyard.”

Yoongi’s dark eyebrows scrunched together, a huff escaping him. “If you’re talking about a domestic cat, there’s no way it would be living out there,” he pointed to the forest outside with a tilt of his chin.

With the shake of my head, I felt myself sober up a bit as I explained, “I think it’s just one of my neighbours’ pets.”

Namjoon and Yoongi stared at each other, appearing baffled. “Well, it’s definitely not Eunhyuk, his son is allergic.”

“But you think mean old Sangmin would have a cat? We’re talking about the same guy who refused to have kids because he’s ‘not a bank’ right?”

Namjoon redirected his attention to me. “Are you sure it’s a cat? Maybe you just saw a rat or something.”

“No, it can’t be...” Their insistent refusal planted seeds of doubt that began to fester the longer I thought about it; they both lived here for longer than I had and obviously knew the area much better as well. It wasn’t like I had the best eyesight, anyway. But I remembered the piercing emerald green irises peering back at me, slit pupils honed in on my form with vibrant clarity. “It’s definitely a cat. It has to be a cat.”

A teasing snort came from Yoongi, who was leaning back on his palms with disbelief written all over his face. “You’re just seeing things, Y/N.”

I pouted at their lack of trust in me. An aggressive urge to prove them wrong began bubbling in the pit of my stomach and with a glimpse of the time from the clock above the stove, I noticed that it was well into midnight—around the hour in which I’d meet the kitty.

“Yeah, well, if you don’t believe me you can come see for yourself.”

“Is it outside?” I revelled in the satisfaction Namjoon’s widened eyes brought me and loftily smirked at him.

The plentiful amount of alcohol I’d indulged in forbade my legs from gracefully standing, wobbling like a newborn fawn instead as I fumbled over to the door, slipping the loose hair tie off and yanking the faulty mass open. Strangely, the night air was deathly silent, even the usually chirpy crickets seeming to have migrated to another yard.

“Hey, buddy. You out there?” I mumbled, scanning the bushes nearby, trying to pick up even the faintest flutter. “Bud?”

When I felt two pairs of curious eyes pierce my back, the pressure skyrocketed. I couldn’t let them believe I was spouting utter nonsense earlier, but the lack of response wasn’t proving my case very well.

After a few minutes passed with only the low whistle of the wind to keep us company, I felt a tinge of worry knot itself into my belly. “Okay, that’s enough Y/N. Let’s go back in.”

“No! It’s just scared because there’s a lot of people out now, you two go back in. I’ll call you when it’s out.” Desperately, I examined every inch of the stationary woodlands.

“We believe you, just get back in here! It’s cold and you’re not wearing a jacket, come on.” Namjoon’s long fingers wrapped around my forearm, tugging on my hesitant form.

As the dark-haired male dragged me back, I caught sight of the abundant helping of tuna I’d left on the last step of the porch yesterday. A pang resounded throughout my chest, disquiet settling into the recesses of my mind. Why didn’t the creature eat the offering, was it angry that I hadn’t shown up the last few nights? I couldn’t stop myself from imagining the worst; if it got lost somewhere, collapsed from starvation or was brutally killed by another animal.

If either one of the guys noticed the unusual pile of food, they didn’t comment on it.

Once back inside, tucked into Namjoon’s comforting shoulder and Yoongi’s warm side pressed against mine, I found myself unable to focus on anything of value. It was as if all my senses had dulled to an absolute minimum, barely processing what flashed on the bright TV screen and only picking up bits and pieces of the conversation between the two males. All I could think about was what could have possibly happened to my poor kitty. 

My eyelids began to droop, heavy from the weight of the last few days’ events. With my body molding itself into Namjoon’s sturdy torso, I welcomed the peaceful darkness.

Taemin’s entire body shook from the force of his tiny sneeze and I could have sworn that my heart ceased its endless beating right then and there, was I in heaven? 

Unaffected by my inner turmoil, the baby jaguar started bouncing around, weaving in and out of my legs as if he was participating in his own agility competition. I crouched down to his level to reach for his lithe body. The little guy always transformed into a flurry of excitement whenever I stopped by his cage, elated that he was free to play around without his constricting muzzle. 

Once I’d discovered what a sweet bean he was, I couldn’t help but comply to his wishes. It didn’t take a mind reader to see how he consistently pawed at the contraption, even clawing his face a couple times on accident. 

The reasoning behind all the safety measures wasn’t lost on me though, as I had witnessed the terror he instilled in most of the staff. About a week prior, I caught Minzi trying to lure Taemin out of his cage with some treats, but all her attempts proved unsuccessful when he didn’t even spare a glance her way.

With an annoyed sigh, she reached into the pocket within her lab coat, retrieving a syringe that I knew she had filled with telazol, a tranquilizing fluid for small animals. That prompted a reaction out of Taemin, his haunches tensing and lowering towards the ground, mouth peeling back in a snarl. The low growling sound vibrating from his small body instantly put me on edge; it was the first time I’d ever seen or heard the animal’s anger.

Before I could move a muscle, the irate woman stuck the needle into his hind leg. Taemin yowled in pain, but sunk his claws into her arm when he got the chance, only able to exact his revenge for a couple seconds before his body fell limp. Minzi detched his paw to find a stream of crimson red besmirching her white coat.

Now that I thought back to it, his growl eerily reminded me of the night of the break-in. Funnily enough, I thought the criminal had the more menacing vibration between the two—and Taemin was a jaguar for god’s sake.

What I found truly inhumane was the assistant assigned to handing Taemin his meals. The callous woman didn’t have half a mind to remove his muzzle before placing a handful of dog kibble in his cage. 

At a glance, Taemin appeared severely underweight for his size, but I could have never chalked it up to his nutrition being fed through the bars around his snout. He struggled to attain such inadequate portions that weren’t even created for his species in mind.

Nevertheless, the instant I’d seen his horrifying feeding conditions, I dismissed the careless assistant and took on the task of keeping Taemin alive, a job that I didn’t think someone could fail so terribly at.

Taemin blindly swiped the air, bringing me out of my reverie. I chuckled as I saw he was a just a couple centimetres off the sleeve of my coat and I brought my hand, palm turned upwards, to meet his paw.

His eyelids were shut closed as tightly as they had been the first day he’d arrived at the lab, a fact that Yoongi informed me of when I’d inquired about Taemin’s lack of sight. Neither him nor Namjoon knew why he refused to, or simply couldn’t, open his eyes and my chest ached thinking about the unfulfilling life he was leading.

The memory crushed the lighthearted atmosphere that had arisen from fooling around with the dark-coloured feline. I rubbed the fur covering his foreleg while stealing a glimpse of Yoongi, seemingly hard at work from his hunched form.

“Hey, Yoongs?”

“I thought I told you not to call me that.” The low murmur was slightly muffled from the microscope covering the entirety of his face.

Disregarding his previous statement, I voiced out my thoughts. “What if Taem can actually see? I mean, we could just check whether the PDE6C gene—”

A lengthy exhale interrupted my speech. “Wow, now I guess I know how Jin feels.”

“Listen, I know what you said before but—”

“Y/N, we have tons of gene sequences to analyze, we don’t have time to waste looking for a faulty PDE6C, okay?” He finally tore his gaze away from his work to peer into my pleading eyes, running his fingers through the strands marring his forehead. “You’re lucky I’m even letting you play around considering the amount of work we have to finish.”

At that, I shut my mouth and concentrated back on Taemin’s restless figure, a much better alternative to the DNA waiting to be analyzed at my desk. Since he was confined within his cage all day, I made it my goal to tire him out enough that he would be forced to rest until the next time I had the chance to abandon work, essentially getting paid to keep him amused.

I gently brought his paw to the floor and scurried away to collect his favourite toy; a fuzzy mouse I’d bought one day after discovering the building was devastatingly unequipped to entertain an extremely bored feline.

Although he whimpered at the loss of contact and the sound of my retreating footsteps, I swiftly grabbed the rodent at the bottom of the drawer, by Yoongi’s legs, and hurried back.

Another half hour passed as I tried to exhaust as much of Taemin’s boundless energy as I could, although my plan backfired when I found that my own strength was depleting just as quickly. His natural hunting instincts were definitely still intact, what with the torn up toy in the corner, held together by mere threads at this point. I made a mental note to go shopping for sturdier prey next time.

Presently, he laid on his side as a content, black loaf, purring from the belly rubs he was receiving. To tease the cub, I would pull away every once in a while only to have his long tail wrap around my wrist, tugging my limb back to action.

“Y/N.” My head turned to meet Namjoon who had wandered over from the assistant researcher’s lab where I’d last seen him. “I finished the sequence for his canines. Do you mind leaving it on Jin’s desk?”

I guiltily stood from my seated position, a sheepish grin plastered on as I gave one last pat to Taemin’s head. “Yeah, of course. Could you lock up Taem for me?”

With his affirmation, I took the papers from his grasp and gave a pat to the crown of Yoongi’s bleached head. He shifted towards me in feigned annoyance, but I was out of his reach before he could get back at me and I celebrated my victory with sticking my tongue out.

I began to make my way upstairs, but not before picking up on Joon’s exasperated remark to Taemin, “I hope you know that I could build you from scratch if I wanted to.”

Once in front of the familiar wood of Jin’s office door, I decided to knock in case he had guests. I restrained the awkward memory of walking in on the whole board of directors from resurfacing and distracted myself by rapping my knuckles with more force when there was no response from within. “Jin? It’s Y/N.” I pushed the handle down and pleasantly found it unlocked. “I’m coming in.”

I waited a couple more seconds before opening the door, meeting the chaos that was the assistant director’s office. As per usual, I winced at the mountain of papers piled upon his desk, astonished that it only seemed to grow since the last time I’d seen it. At this rate, I was just waiting for the day that I’d walk in here to see the towers reaching the ceiling. 

Striding over to Jin’s side of the desk, I laid the notes down in the dead centre, resting on top of three separate piles. Sympathy flooded my senses as my gaze roamed across the masses. How could such a hardworking individual accumulate so much work while he was working? 

Even staring at the copious amounts of print made me feel queasy, hence I hurried to get out of the nauseating area. But, as I scuttled by, my gaze caught on a file with thick, messy letters scrawled on the front.

Jaguar.

To say my curiosity was piqued whenever Taemin was involved was an understatement. After a glance back to ensure that I was able to safely snoop around until my heart’s content, I reached for the file, making sure to keep my posterior to the camera in the corner, concealing my actions.

Ultimately, I knew Taemin was brought in to make progress on their “top secret, strictly confidential experiment,” which meant that I wasn’t to touch any of his files. At least, according to the brusque Minzi I wasn’t. However, an underlying, devious part of me enjoyed rebelling against her words and I secretly rejoiced as I directly disobeyed her orders, opening the folder.

Basic information was scattered along the first page, his name, birthdate, birthplace, so on and so forth. I casually flipped through the rest, finding the documents we routinely handed off to Jin when we’d written down sequences that brought about certain genes concerning the jaguar. This was probably where Jin would store the note Namjoon had made me deliver.

Losing interest, I flipped the bulk of the papers back to the front and seamlessly slid them into the file. When I unintentionally skimmed the first page once again, my eyes caught on a baffling sentence.

Heightened sense of sight, especially keen night vision.

I wet my suddenly chapped lips in my state of bafflement, double and triple checking that the file was indeed for seemingly blind Taemin; the very same animal that was probably napping downstairs. The statistics even matched up with what little knowledge I had about the animal, sending me into a greater spiral of confusion. They must have accidentally written the observation down on the wrong paper.

Unless...? 

I shook my head, trying to dispel the outrageous thoughts swarming my mind.

Heading back down, I caught sight of Yoongi still wrapped around his microscope, jotting notes down with his other hand. My attention shifted to the unconscious feline next, muzzled and locked behind bars.

My fists clenched, fingernails engraving crescents into the palm of my hand as I resolved to finally clear out these murky waters.

An hour passed before I finally located it and then another few hours slipped by as I examined the sequence.

The PDE6C gene on chromosome ten. Perfectly intact and working exceptionally until the halfway point, around the thousandth base. Some of the letters got mixed up, binding with incorrect base pairs and bestowing Taemin with his current lack of vision. 

Of course, I was prepared to deal with the repercussions of wasting precious time, examining a sequence that did not correlate to any favourable gene. But after connecting some dots, I recognized the agent that brought about such errors.

Ethyl methanesulfonate, or EMS for short. A chemical mutagenic that induces base substitutions, mutating the DNA molecule as a result. I couldn’t imagine why they’d inject a carcinogenic compound into the mammal, but it obviously had something to do with trying to enhance his natural vision. 

Did they think the possibility of disabling him was worth the slim chance that his eyesight could improve? By the bases that were effected, I guessed that they were trying to sharpen his sight when submerged in darkness. If the guanine alkylation hadn’t spread so far, they might have succeeded in their experiment.

Nevertheless, their hypothesis was dreadfully incorrect and Taemin was blind as a result of their recklessness.

My grip on the pencil tightened in pure, white fury. In the fruitless hope that the EMS hadn’t affected his whole body, I took several samples of cells from various areas of his body. Albeit, samplings of his cheeks, ears and legs all provided the same conclusion that I’d reached earlier—deformed DNA from ill-fitting base pairs. 

All the blood drained from my face from the appalling notion of just how much EMS they must have injected into his blood stream for it to have tampered with every cell in his body. My jaw clenched as my mouth ran bone dry.

They mutilated him.

Digust washed over me, for the false claims that the lab protected their lab animals, for every ruthless employee that harboured such barbaric morals, for myself, who blindly assisted in the cruel methods of this place. My heart rate picked up at my own helplessness, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I scrambled out of the corner I had holed myself up in.

I didn’t know if it was the bruising despair or the fuming rage that had me stomping my way across the halls, headed for the director’s office. The rational part of me was aware of the fact that I couldn’t do anything, change their twisted morals or bring down that metaphorical sword of justice that I was so fixated on. But that didn’t mean I had to play along as a clueless, complaisant pawn in their gruesome experiments.

Keycard or not, I was determined to wreak havoc until I could properly screech obscenities at one of the incredibly asinine brains that ran this revolting laboratory. Storming past the Namjoon and Yoongi’s office, I picked up on a shrill cry that seemed to douse my whole body in ice water, stopping me in my tracks.

A turn to my right gave me a direct view of Minzi struggling to pull a semi-conscious Taemin out of his cage, arms which he desperately wriggled against, thrashing violently to escape her hold. Now knowing what malicious behaviour deserved such treatment from kind-hearted Taemin, I rushed at her. 

“How could you!” I roared, seeing red when she turned, glaring condescendingly.

Her calculated eyes examined my rapidly approaching, ruffled figure. “Oh, good, I needed a coffee. Could you fetch me a tranquilizer while you’re at it? I didn’t think he would wake up.”

I grit my teeth as my temper flared, resentment embedded into each of my features. Stopping a step away from her unbothered form, I seethed out, “you guys claim to look after the lab animals? Then why would you permanently damage his genes!”

“What have you been wasting time on instead of researching what we told you to?”

“Answer the question!”

She sneers. “I thought I warned you to stay out of anything that doesn’t concern you. That includes any testing subjects.”

“Testing subjects? How the hell do you think you can get away with—”

“Woah, what’s all the ruckus here?” Hyunho’s lazy form strolled in with a lax yet domineering countenance. The appearance of the other head researcher made my hair stand on end. “Do we need to put up a sign to remind some people that they’re to use indoor voices inside a laboratory?”

My eyes quickly narrowed at his patronizing remark. “I don’t know what kind of fucked up project you guys are conducting, but if you’re harming innocent animals, I don’t want any part of your imbecilic research.”

“Ooh, it seems that newbie is a feisty one, isn’t she?” He took a step towards me, the scent of a cigarette he probably smoked earlier invading my senses and invoking an appealing urge to regurgitate my dinner all over him. “Listen here girly, I don’t know what you’re trying to accuse us of here, but I’ll be sure to report your unruly behaviour to the director if you keep this shit up.”

“As if I give a flying fu—”

A hand wrapped around my mouth before I could unleash the rest of my resentful spew. “Ah, Dr. Lee.” I recognized the subtle undertone of panic in Namjoon’s deep voice as he addressed the burly man with respect that he didn’t deserve. “You see, Y/N had a pretty rough day, some family matters back home, y’know? I’m just going to take her outside to clear her head a little.”

“Yes, that would be a good idea.” Hyunho stepped back to Minzi’s side.

“If you would excuse us then...” I flailed about in Namjoon’s sturdy hold before he all but manhandled my to the back entrance. The refreshingly cool air grazing my overheated skin quelled some of my fury, although I felt its presence simmering beneath the surface. The tall man released my trembling limbs and I whipped my head over to examine Namjoon’s concerned countenance. 

Did he know?

I couldn’t bear the thought of any of the limited friends I’d made in this place willingly taking part in such horrid research. They couldn’t have known. My heavy head fell into my hands, thinking of innocent Taemin who didn’t merit the attention of these corrupt individuals, who had no one to protect him. 

If I quit my job here, would anyone care for him? Obviously his basic needs would be met, Namjoon and Yoongi would make sure of that, but were they aware of what exactly that experiment entailed? I’d only scratched the surface, but the prospect of finding out every gritty detail terrified me.

I felt an overwhelming weight crushed me, being helpless beneath it all. “Joon,” I managed to croak out, “I didn’t come here for this.”

With the low volume of my voice, I didn’t know how much he’d heard, but a tug on my wrist enveloped my body into his embrace. As he stroked my head reassuringly, I held onto his thin lab coat with clenched fists.

If it meant I could save Taemin, I would keep my mouth shut. If it meant I could act as some salvation to each animal that came into this wretched place, I would stay.

My disgust for the laboratory only multiplied.

“I didn’t come here for this.”

A pleasant tranquility took shape after a brief greeting had been exchanged, both Jin and I on a well-deserved break after too much time cooped up in our respective offices. Well, even though the assistant researchers’ office wasn’t technically mine in title, the majority of my belongings resided in that space. Namjoon didn’t mind much and Yoongi complained about everything under the sun, so I made myself comfortable there. 

The hum of electricity powering the building and the whirr of the coffee maker spurring into action intensified as I closed my eyes, resting my head against the back of the sofa. I stared up at the ceiling with a vacant expression and tried to clear my thoughts for a bit.

A ceramic mug clinked against the surface of the coffee table in front of me. “Drink.” I lifted my head to take in the reassuring crinkle in Jin’s eyes. “You look like you’ll need all the energy you can get right now.”

I scoffed at his statement, the end of my own lips flitting upwards. “Just tell me I look like shit.”

Gratefully accepting the cup of coffee, the bitter taste on my tongue already started to rejuvenate my aching muscles. Jin was aware of my deep-seated aversion to the drink, but I guess my appearance revealed too much of the chaos inside my head. “I was going to, but I had a feeling you might just break down if I did.”

Although the work itself was tedious and relatively tiring on its own, the fact that all my efforts were going to fuel that wretched project made me feel rotten to the core. The knowledge sapped my stamina at an exponential rate that I wasn’t accustomed to.

“How’s baby Yeri doing?” I placed the pungent beverage back down, stroking my chin in faux deliberation. “Or I guess I should ask how Chaeyoung is holding up instead, huh?”

Jin let out a hum of aggravation around his own glass, swallowing the liquid before slapping his unoccupied hand against his thigh. “Don’t even get me started. Chaeyoung keeps telling me to take some time off work to come help, but honestly I would take the peace and quiet of the office over Yeri’s nasty diapers any day.” He shook his head at the thought, repulsed by the dealing with another one of Yeri’s accidents.

I’d heard the story one too many times not to let a giggle slip at his misfortune.

Abruptly, an alarming shriek disturbed the placidity. As my head shot up to identify the source, the sound was muffled, then silence resumed. I scrambled to discern who the perpetrator was when my gaze met Jin’s static form. “Did you hear that?” When his weary eyes met mine, appearing confused, I clarified, “that scream.”

“Oh, they probably just dropped something. Don’t worry too much about it.” But I couldn’t find a trace of compassion in his words, especially with how gut-wrenching the shout sounded. Rather than shock, every note was filled with agony and something felt vaguely off about the whole ordeal.

The look of guilt that Jin sported stopped me from prodding. I refused to believe the stubborn man who was always drowning in papers to complete, shoving fried chicken down his throat like there was no tomorrow, who had the sweetest daughter back at home knew anything about the experiment. Not what was really happening.

That’s why the regret and shame written all over his countenance made me pause.

More shuffling, whimpers and yelps filled my limbs with apprehension, seeping deep into my bones and making me restless. Jin kept his gaze trained on the floor, unable to look me in the eye as he excused each sound with the fault of a clumsy, irresponsible researcher and other rationalizations that I wasn’t sure he, himself, believed. 

At this point, the raucous was becoming increasingly bestial and I couldn’t decipher the species that was belting out the miserable noises. I tried to grit my teeth and ignore them, distracting myself with Jin’s moronic cover-ups to keep me glued to my spot. Without a keycard, I had no access to the upstairs lab anyway, it was out of my hands for now.

When my thoughts strayed to Taemin though, I felt my heart drop to the pit of my stomach, recalling how I had been dragged away before I could stop Minzi from taking him. Suddenly, I lost the ability to think logically, fixated on Taemin’s well-being. I had to know if it was him.

Hastily, I jumped out of my seat, coffee long forgotten as I sprinted down the hall. Jin’s pounding footsteps followed after me, though I gave them no mind.

Once I reached the first floor, the sight of two unfamiliar men dressed in heavy gear greeted me. The bulkier of the two lifted the cage as if it were as light as a feather and I noticed how unusually clean it was. “No, you can’t take it upstairs!” I grabbed onto the bars, halting him in his tracks. “Where is he? Tell them to bring him back here!”

“Sorry, no can do miss,” he drawled out. “We were asked to—”

“I don’t care what you were asked to do! Tell them to bring him back!” He rolled his eyes at my accusatory tone and yanked the cage out of my grasp. As I reached out again in a frenzy, the other man blocked my path. The odds weren’t looking too great for me.

I saw Jin emerge from the staircase, following the ruckus I’d created. Relief flooded my veins as I sought his backup. “Jin, they want to take his cage.” Pursing my lips, I pointed to said object. “Could you tell them to leave it here?”

“No, Y/N. Get out of the way.” My breath hitched at Jin’s steely tone, locking onto his fatigued gaze. I tried to remind myself that he was oblivious to the horrors that they’d already inflicted upon Taemin, but the back of my eyes still burned at the betrayal I felt. “Come on, let them do their job.”

Though I refused to show how dismayed I’d become, I couldn’t bear the idea of Taemin residing upstairs, where they could inject anything without suspicion. “Please, Jin. Please. Believe me when I say that he won’t last a day up there.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, let’s go finish our coffee, hm?” I huffed out through my nostrils in frustration, wringing my fingers together as I debated whether or not to tell him the truth I discovered for myself not too long ago.

“Oh, my. What’s this? I believe I told you what would happen if you caused a commotion again, didn’t I?” Feeling defeated already, I didn’t even turn to meet Hyunho’s form as I heard him approach. “I’ll need you to get out of the way now, girly.”

“It’s Y/N.”

His fake grin put his crooked teeth on full display. “Yes, yes. Scurry along now.”

“No.” With a hardened resolve, I glared back at him. “Bring Taemin back. Let him stay on this floor.” Hesitant but desperate, I added a barely audible, “please.”

At my plea, he brightened up, utterly pleased with watching me grovel at his feet. “You should use that tone more often, newbie, it could really get you places.” The stealthy once-over of my chest didn’t go unnoticed by me and I wrapped the lab coat around me tighter. He pulled back a little, satisfied with my discomfort. "You didn’t hear? He died of natural causes, so we have to clean up this mess for the new tiger cub coming in. Don’t worry though, he’ll be staying on this floor when he gets here.”

I took a step back, skin stinging as if he’d slapped me across the face, feeling my blood run cold. Out of the corner of my eye, I noted the bewilderment reflected on Jin’s features, as well as the sudden appearance of Namjoon and Yoongi, both looking as distressed as I felt.

When my breaths came in heavier and burning droplets rolled down my cheeks, I knew the dam had broken. “Don’t feed me that bullshit... You monsters.” I felt my bottom lip quiver as my voice cracked. “Killed him.”

One of Hyunho’s thick eyebrows raised in amusement at my shattered state. “Haven’t you been taught not to mess with fire, girly?” He crossed his arms after giving a flick of dismissal to the man still carrying the cage. “You could get burned.” 

A pair of arms wrapped around my torso and dragged me away before I could wail anything out. Through the blurry mess of tears, I made out a discarded, mangled mouse toy by the corner.

tags: @aurorakingsley​ @bubbletae7​ @iamunrecognized @bangtanloverrrrr​ @walkingdeadfan25​